Harry Potter and the Weasley Seer
by puiwaihin
Summary: A prank in Professor Trelawney's class leads to Ron being hailed as a seer. But nobody could predict how that would change Harry's fate. AU, starts 3rd year. Powerful!Harry. Adventure/Humor.
1. Chapter 1: The Weasley Seer

**Copyright and Intellectual Property Issues: **_This is an original work of fanfiction, however the characters and many concepts and ideas in this work are based on characters owned by other authors. Harry Potter and all characters in this story as well as the settings used in this story are based on the works of J.K. Rowlings in her Harry Potter books and are her intellectual property._

**Harry Potter and the Weasley Seer**

It began as a prank.

Ron was looking at his crystal ball with great solemnity and intoned, just loud enough for the rest of the class to hear, "**I see grave danger ahead**," his voice changed inflection, becoming deeper and more ominous. "**Upon the next day of rain, the powers of the heavens will be loosed and in a flash one sitting among us here shall be struck down from above**…" Ron let his voice trail off.

"Ron?" Parvati asked the Gryffindor in a hushed tone. "Ron?" she repeated?

"Uh? Wh-what?" Ron replied, looking about as if he were just waking up.

"Did you mean what you just said? About, you know, one of us being struck down?"

"Who said anything about someone being struck down?" Ron asked back as if he had no clue what she were talking about.

Parvati's face paled, as did several students around them. Neville Longbottom rushed over to Professor Trelawney and began speaking to her in an alarmed tone. The professor looked over at the red headed wizard and a look of true concern was plastered on her face, but she said nothing. Soon, the entire class was whispering about the prediction.

Ron looked at Harry and saw him grin. Ron grinned back.

"How gullible can someone be?" Ron asked his best friend. "Scared of that little bit of acting? You'd have to be daft to think that I'm some kind of seer or something."

"Good one, Ron," Harry grinned back, enjoying the prank. If Hermione had been taking Divinations as a subject she would have been appalled at Ron's trick, and mortified at how many people actually fell for it.

Still, there wouldn't have been any serious problem if Ron's prediction hadn't have actually come true.

Four days later, a light rain poured down on the Hogwarts grounds as the students were heading towards the north tower for another class with Professor Trelawney. Students were wearing thick robes for the weather and carrying umbrellas. Ron and Harry were walking along chatting together idly.

Padma Patil saw the pair chatting and rushed over to them, glancing up at the sky in concern. "What are you two doing?" she hissed. "Don't you two know this is the first time it has rained since our last class?"

"So?" Ron and Harry responded in unison.

"Ron's prophecy, of course!" she answered with a bit of heat. "Ron, you may not remember what you said, but there's no excuse for you, Harry! You should be practicing the charm to ward against electrocution!"

"Well," Ron began with a little laugh, "I don't think—"

His words were interrupted by a massive crack of thunder so loud and close that they were deafened for several seconds. The three of them were stunned for a bit, sights and sounds coming to them in slow motion, but then their senses began to settle. And then they heard several screams coming from nearby.

The three of them staggered towards the sounds of the screams, several students were gathered around one spot a few yards ahead of them. When they reached the area, they were met with a frightening scene. Lying prone on the ground was the blackened body of one of the students. Steam rose up off the area and they just could make out the form of Neville Long bottom.

"Bloody hell!" Ron looked on aghast.

All the students gathered around took their eyes off of the form on the ground to look at Ron. Their eyes held a mixture of apprehension and awe.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>"I can't believe it," Ron muttered again for the hundredth time. "I made it all up. It shouldn't have happened."<p>

Harry had to agree with his best mate. He and Ron had both gone along with their professor's odd assignments, making up phony interpretations of stains from tea leaves and patterns of swirls in crystal balls. They had both made ridiculous predictions to their teacher, who had simply accepted their work with a nod of her head. There was no "inner eye" they were using. Yet Trelawney had given both of them high marks on all their work, and had even praised Ron several times in front of the class as having the "sight" when he gave particularly vague warnings and musings. That had certainly contributed to the effectiveness of Ron's performance. But now the room was awkwardly silent.

There was a sudden stirring and many loud gasps several minutes later that got the pair's attention. Harry and Ron both looked and were even more dumbfounded then they had been. Entering into the Gryffindor Common Room was none other than Neville Longbottom.

The boy crossed the room, his eyes intent on Ron. The red-headed Weasley boy gulped, worried about the intent of the boy who had just been struck by lightning. Thoughts of Neville out for revenge over the prediction flashed through Ron's mind. He was surprised then, when the boy flung himself on Ron in a hug.

"Thank you so much, Ron, I owe you my life!" the boy said solemnly.

"Wh-what?" Ron stammered.

"If it weren't for you, I would be dead now. I told Gran about your prediction and she sent me a cloak charmed to prevent electrocution. It was still a nasty shock that, but Madame Pomfrey just gave me a Pepper-up potion and I'm good as new!"

A round of applause went around the room and suddenly, Ron Weasley was being congratulated on being a seer. Even his twin brothers were getting in on the act, loudly proclaiming their brother the best thing since Nostradamus.

The rumor of Ron's skill in divination spread around the school like wildfire. To the annoyance of Ron, Hermione, and Harry, people began to hang on Ron's every word and began to interpret his sayings as being prophetic. The trio couldn't even go to relieve themselves without a crowd following them and listening for something Ron might say. The problem was, more and more, what he said was turning out to be true.

If Ron mentioned in Professor Snape's class that he worried that a certain person's potion was going to end up disastrously, the entire cauldron would blow up. Ron mentioned that Colin Creevey looked like he was getting sick and two days later he was in Madame Promfrey's care with a severe magical malady that had struck out of the blue. Of course, there were rumors flying around the school about predictions Ron had made when he had said nothing of the kind, and even some of _these_ were coming true.

"All right, Ron," Harry teased. "How about you predict that the Gryffindor Quidditch team is going to massacre Hufflepuff?"

"Oi! Not you, too! You know what a bunch of codswollop this is!"

Ron had enjoyed the fame for a bit, but quickly changed his mind about it as the scrutiny on the things he said increased. He was gaining a new appreciation for Harry's plight. People trying to read things into everything he said had gotten quite a bit annoying. He couldn't have a meal in the Great Hall without a flock of students badgering him to tell them what would be on the next test or what the weather would be like the next day.

"How do you put up with it all, mate? Everyone flocking around you all the time. It's not like I'm getting possessed by the Inner Eye and talking out of my head anymore, you know?"

"You have to admit, Ronald," Hermione teased, "that things you are saying are happening unusually often. Even if people just _believe_ what you said is true, it tends to happen, even if that's not what you actually said."

And suddenly, Harry was enlightened. Ron's prophecies weren't coming true because he knew the future. They were coming true because people believed they would come true.

He didn't share his observation with Ron or Hermione yet. Despite how clear the truth was to him, he wanted to be sure before he said something. Otherwise they would think he was mental.

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><p><em>Please Review. Don't make me Imperius you.<em>


	2. Chapter 2: Assembly

**Chapter 2: Assembly**

Harry wondered why the entire school would be called for a special, school-wide Divinations class. Every student from first year to seventh year, in all four of the houses had been called to the Great Hall. Every professor was in attendance. Dumbledore, Headmaster of the school, sat at the head table alongside Professor Sybil Trelawney. And Ron Weasley.

A gathering like this was something rare at Hogwarts, and for a special class on Divinations, it was unheard of. Harry Potter was naturally suspicious.

Dumbledore began to speak.

"It has come to my attention that recently, a True Prophecy was witnessed in our Divinations classroom. This is a rare thing indeed, even moreso that the seer who made the prophecy was not our esteemed professor of Divinations, Professor Sybill Trelawney, but one of her students, and a third year at that. It is true, that in fact, Mr. Ronald Weasley did make a prophetic pronouncement in front of witnesses, and the prophecy was fulfilled just as he said it would.

"It is for this reason, because of this important and historic event, that I felt that it would be in the interests of all students to understand the importance of this moment, and to gain a greater understanding into the art that is divinations. To this end, I will defer to Professor Trelawney's expertise. Professor?"

Albus Dumbledore sat down, the Divinations professor stood. She was looking uncharacteristically dignified. Usually, she had the appearance of one who was, ironically, short-sighted and somewhat batty. Now, however, her eyes shone piercingly through her thick framed glasses and she stood at the rectory without a hint of a stumble.

"As anyone who has taken the subject in my class can attest, divination is a subtle art. A mysterious magic that only the most attuned can appreciate." There were several murmurs and a few snickers at that. Hermione, for once, was one of the murmurers. "Only with decades of study and experience can the average witch or wizard begin to truly comprehend the Portents of Fate…" Trelawney trailed off as she finished that sentence, as if gazing at something in the far distance. Many students seemed awed by the theatrics, and a hush fell over the Hall.

"But to my great delight, though I must admit it is not a surprise at all to me…I did predict this on several occasions…that one of my students has verily opened his Inner Eye. Ronald Weasley of the Weasley family, is, in fact, a natural seer!"

The Great Hall erupted in clamorous, excited speech. Harry watched it all from his seat, taking it all in. Nothing Trelawney had said was news, yet the way she had presented it had electrified the school. Students hastily recounted witnessing Ron either make a prediction, a prediction coming true, or both. Something tickled at the back of Harry's mind and he turned to watch the Head Table. All of the teachers were reacting, trying to calm the students or scowling at them. All except for Albus Dumbledore who was just sitting serenely in his place. Dumbledore's eyes were taking in the commotion as if he had expected it.

He _**had**_ expected it, Harry concluded. This was all an orchestrated act. And if Harry was right about belief powering the fulfillment of prophecy, then this was just going to bolster that belief in Ron as a seer. Harry and Dumbledor's gaze met momentarily and Harry felt a thrill of understanding in them. Professor Dumbledore must know about the nature of prophecy and he must know how this would affect things. What was he playing at, reinforcing their belief in Ron as a seer?

The crowd quieted as Dumbledore struck his glass three times with the tip of his wand, the sound of the tinkling crystal piercing through the Hall. When the Hall quieted, the Headmaster gave a nod to the Divinations professor to continue. She inclined her head back to Dumbledore, and Harry could swear he noticed some kind of silent communication pass between them.

"Ahem," Trelawney coughed, "At first I was reserved about Mr. Weasley's prophecy. I was not sure whether he truly had The Sight, or if he had merely caught a glimpse of a _possible_ future." The hush increased as the professor spoke of this. Harry blinked. It was a new concept for him. She had never spoken of there being _possible_ futures before. "I was, therefore pleased, when Mr. Weasley's prophecy proved to be a True Prophecy of our own world. At last," she said, gazing over at Ron with an affectionate look, "a kindred spirit."

Ron visibly shuddered up there at the table.

"Over the past month, Mr. Weasley has made numerous prophetic statements, oftentimes without even realizing he was doing so. This only confirms what we all know," she nodded, "that he is a true seer. I, myself, had the same experience years ago after giving my first True Prophecy. The Inner Eye remains _partially_ open for some time after such a vision. Ronald Weasley has received many glimpses of what will be, and subconsciously, he has been speaking prophetic words."

The Hall erupted in whispers, only to be silenced by Trelawney's next pronouncements.

"While only echoes of true prophecy, these minor predictions mark Mr. Weasley as having great potential in the field of divination. His Inner Eye will soon close, if it has not already, and the reliability of his visions and applicability to _this world_ will soon fade, but he will always have a gift for knowing what is to come or what may be, at least in some capacity. And there very well may come a time when his Inner Eye will reawaken and deliver another True Prophecy."

Harry had not expected this. The murmurs in the Hall had a completely different tenor to them. Whereas moments before the belief in Ron's ability had become overwhelming, now there was a current of doubt. Harry's eyes opened wide. That was what Dumbledore was doing! He was seeding potential doubt in Ron's predictions while not outright denying his ability! For once, Harry paid strict attention to Professor Trelawney's explanations of things. She lectured briefly about the nature of the Inner Eye and viewing worlds without end. And it all simultaneously supported Ron's earlier prophecies and set him up to stop having visions.

And then Ron got up and spoke. He was halting in his speech, clearly uncomfortable in the spotlight. As he explained what it was like to feel the 'Inner Eye', he shot Harry a look that confessed what he was saying was utter bollocks and begged not to be reproached. Harry grinned devilishly at him in return, but Harry was far more interested in watching the Great Hall and Dumbledore.

The more he saw, the more he was convinced that he was right.

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><p>.<p>

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><p><em><strong>Omake<strong>_**: **_The following is an outtake. It's not actually part of the story, I just put it here for fun._

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><p>Ron stood in front of the school and gulped. Everyone was staring at him. He looked over at Harry and saw him nod, giving support. That was enough. He'd give it a go.<p>

"Uh, hi everybody. I'm, uh, Ron Weasley." The Slytherin table snickered. He silently berated himself. Of course they all knew who he was already.

"Eh, it's like Professor Trelawney says, the Inner Eye thing, you know. Sometimes I will just sorta see what will happen, or maybe even daydream it or something." Ron stole a quick look at his professors. Many of them had a thoughtful expression.

Ron realized then that he had just earned himself a "get out of Azkaban free" card for daydreaming in class. Suddenly, this whole speaking in front of the school thing became a lot less scary and a lot more of an opportunity. But then he looked at all the rapt faces hanging on what he had to say. Better not to encourage that.

"You see, when I saw what was going to happen to Neville, it was sort of like… I was in a trance or something. It wasn't me talking as much as my _Inner Eye_ was talking through me. I'm still not really clear on that," Ron saw Hermione roll her eyes and Harry suppress his laughter. He hoped Harry and Hermione would still respect him after this. "Um, right, so, the thing is that at first I didn't really know what all I was seeing, but then it sorta got clearer, you know? And so I started knowing all sorts of things, like when it was going to rain, or about that flying pig."

Ron almost snorted trying to keep from laughing at that. What he had really had said was that Harry and Snape would get along when pigs could fly. Who could know that there would be a charmed pig in Hogsmeade or that Snape and Harry would actually be civil with each other for a full 30 seconds?

"But, it's, you know, different from when I was in Professor Trelawney's class. And you know, it seems like now things are getting fuzzy again. So, sort of like she said…"

Ron glanced over towards the Slytherin table and saw Draco Malfoy snickering and mocking him. He scowled for a second. The prat.

"So, yeah, that's about it. So, I'm not sure how much longer I'll…"

Ron's voice trailed off and his head lolled forward. The Great Hall went silent. And then Ron's head suddenly jerked upwards. When he spoke again, his voice was altered, deeper and without any emotion.

"**The Hand of Fate moves. The Scion of Malfoy has been touched**." All eyes suddenly looked at Draco. The already pale skinned boy went absolutely stark white. "**The only son of the Malfoy House shall conceive and in nine months' time bear a child from his belly, a child of the pain and anguish caused by the power of the Dark Arts, sent to atone for the evil deeds of the House. And the child shall have no hair upon its head**…"

Ron's head slumped back down. After a moment, Ron looked up again. All eyes turned back to him. "Uh, where was I? So, I guess, um, that's it." And then Ron sat back down.

The Great Hall erupted in frantic talking, and Draco Malfoy looked like he was about to choke to death.

Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked over to the podium with a sigh. The crowd hushed and looked at the ancient wizard expectantly. Could it possibly be true? The Headmaster surveyed the assembled students, then looked over at Ron, who was sitting there as if oblivious to what had just happened.

"Well, it seems that Mr. Weasley has made another prediction. Let us hope that this one is of some other world or another future, and not this one, for Mr. Malfoy's sake." The looks of all the students directed towards Draco only increased after that preamble. Dumbledore sighed again. "But, to be safe, Draco is to see Madam Pomfrey for treatment at the end of this month and every two weeks after that. Let's hope we can nip this in the bud."

Harry had only one thought: Brilliant.

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><p><em>Please Review. Don't make me Imperius you.<em>


	3. Chapter 3: Lessons on Magic

**Chapter 3: Lessons on Magic**

Harry Potter frowned as he watched Professor Flitwick and the rest of the Charms class. Something wasn't adding up. Harry watched as several students made objects shrink and enlarge with apparent ease, some getting the objects smaller than other students could, and some easily returning the object to its normal proprotions. Yet a number of students were having difficulty. Professor Flitwick moved among them, observing each student's performance with his keen eyes. Harry's emerald green eyes were watching just as carefully, if not more so.

The problem was that not every successful student was getting the wand movements right or even the pronunciation exactly correct, while some of the unsuccessful ones were doing everything almost spot on and yet still failing. Neville was one of those who was clearly doing everything right but without success. He had a look of hopelessness on his face as he made his wand movements and carefully uttered the incantation. Harry watched Flitwick walk over to Ron and correct his wand movements. Ron was moving his wand in a circular motion instead of a sharp angle as Flitwick had instructed. As soon as the red-head made the adjustment, his spell worked. Yet, Harry had seen several other pureblood students use rounded movements and still get the spell to work.

Harry had mastered the spell early, shortly after Hermione had gotten it to work, which she had done on her first try. Rather than continuing to practice the charm correctly over and over, he decided to experiment. Could he cast the charm wrongly and still get it to work? He tried to do it with a rounded movement of his wand as he had seen others do. The wooden block in front of him shrank. Harry repeated the charm, altering the wand movements even further. He got the same results. Frowning, Harry tried the incantation but mispronouncing it slightly as he had heard another student do. The spell still worked just fine.

Frowning even harder, he made up a completely different incantation, pointed his wand, and…the block of wood exploded. That put a smile on his face. He attracted the attention of Professor Flitwick and several stares, but he didn't mind. At least it seemed there were some rules to casting charms. After giving the short instructor a plausible excuse and demonstrating the charm flawlessly, Flitwick allowed Harry to continue.

Watching Neville continue to struggle, Harry decided to take a chance. He walked over to Neville and watched him perform the charm again and again, each time with the correct motion and pronunciation but almost no success. He had a look of failure on his face.

"Hey, Neville," Harry greeted his fellow Gryffindor classmate. "Hold on a minute."

The boy stopped his attempts and greeted Harry. "Hi ya, Harry. I just can't seem to get the spell to work for me."

"Yeah, I know why," Harry replied calmly. "Someone cursed your block of wood when you weren't looking," Harry lied. "I just overheard them snickering about it. I already hexed them for you."

"Really?" Neville asked, his eyes wide.

"Yeah. They were real gits to do that to you." Harry pointed his wand at Neville's block of wood and simply said, "_finite incantatem_!" He turned back to Neville and gave him a smile. "There you go, Neville. Give it another go. I'm sure it will work now."

Neville looked at Harry, then at the block of wood. The look of failure that had been on his face was gone. When he looked at Harry, his expression was one of trust and respect. When Neville looked at the block of wood, his look was one of determination. The block of wood shrunk down so tiny it was almost hard to see.

"Oh, well done, Neville!" Flitwick's voice called out. "And excellent cooperation, Mr. Potter, giving a classmate pointers! Five points to Gryffindor," the Ravenclaw Head of House announced.

Harry took the opportunity to ask the Charms professor about his observations. Not about his own experiments, that would have earned him some docked house points and possibly a detention, but he explained what he had seen other students doing wrong and still getting positive results. Filius Flitwick gave Harry an appraising glance. "You have made some excellent observations, Harry. You would have done well in Ravenclaw, it seems." Then he pulled out some advanced Charms textbooks on Charms theory. For every observation Harry had made, there was an answer in some book or other that plausibly explained what was going on.

Harry didn't buy any of it. The theory did not fit the results of his experimentation. Regardless, Harry thanked his Charms professor. From the sound of it, Flitwick believed what he was saying and he was a genuinely caring instructor.

Harry went back to his own desk thoughtfully. With a grin, he picked up his wand and cast the charm again perfectly. He watched as the fifth target for the lesson, a metal statue, shrank to a little more than half its original size. The grin left Harry's face as he had been doing much better than that before he had gone to talk to Neville. Had someone overheard him and gotten the idea to actually curse his items?

That was when Harry looked and realized that the "wand" he had picked up wasn't actually his wand at all. He was holding a feather duster.

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><p>Belief.<p>

Everything was down to belief, Harry had realized. It wasn't just prophecies. Spells worked according to belief as well. Sure, there were limits, but Harry had to wonder how much of that was based on deeply rooted beliefs he just couldn't shake.

Earlier in the year Remus Lupin had taught him the _patronus_ charm after learning how strongly dementors at the school searching for Sirius Black had affected him. Initially, Harry had trouble performing the charm. On his second try against a boggart transformed into a dementor, Harry had managed to create shield of positive energy. Professor Lupin had greatly praised Harry, explaining that doing so was an incredible feat for a third year student.

After witnessing the charm create a full-bodied patronus, and after his epiphany in Charms class, Harry was able to cast the charm flawlessly himself. Professor Lupin had told him that this was NEWT level spell, very "advanced" magic. Yet, after believing he could do it, it seemed easy. And if he could do this charm, then why not other spells?

It hadn't been hard to get a hold of fourth year, fifth year, sixth year, and seventh year textbooks. He was in a shared dormitory with upper level students and such books were left lying around all the time. He went through them trying out spells that were supposed to be particularly difficult. Observing them being used helped tremendously, he found. Once he saw someone else do a spell, Harry knew he could do the same thing. And so he could.

Remembering them all, however, was another matter. Harry found that if he wasn't sure if he had remembered a spell correctly nor not, it wouldn't work. And he certainly had not memorized all the magical theory behind the spells.

But then, if what he knew to be true was true, which obviously was so, more than half of what was theorized was obviously wrong. Most of if tried to explain the limitations of a spell, or why sometimes things happened that were not expected. Harry had learned that quite a few of the restrictions on such spells simply didn't really exist for someone who didn't believe they existed.

Harry even began experimenting with trying to create his own spells. To his delight, he found it not too difficult at all. He had the best success when altering an existing spell or combining incantations, such as _scourgify_ and _lumos maxima_ to create a cleaning charm that could easily clean an entire hallway: _scourgify maxima_.

There were, however, two classes where he found the rules to be much less fluid: Transfiguration and Potions. There were, apparently, certain natural laws and just believing they didn't exist didn't erase them. Of course, Harry wasn't sure that it wasn't just a matter of him being unable to disbelieve the natural laws, but he had tried.

Harry quickly learned that the laws and rules of Transfiguration were more about the consequences of natural law than about the "right" way to wave your wand. Sure, you could still turn an owl into opera glasses if you said the spell with the wrong enunciation or wand movement, but you couldn't make the change permanent or break any of the fundamental laws of transfiguration. Harry was far more conservative in his experimentations in McGonagall's class, asking what the consequences of breaking a particular stricture ("getting it wrong" he always said when asking), before attempting something different in private.

Potions, sadly, had similar restrictions, but for entirely different reasons which Harry could not entirely understand. Harry found that he could get away with stirring everything the wrong way or preparing the ingredients somewhat differently than prescribed and still produce a proper potion, but altering the ingredients or even the amounts in the slightest had bad results. Nor did his belief in what the potion should be have much of an effect on what the actual result was.

Despite this, Harry's newfound understanding of the role of belief in magic definitely improved his results in class, much to Professor Snape's annoyance. Whereas previously many of Harry's potions had barely been acceptable, now they all turned out at least as good as the best in the class (_cough_, Hermione, _cough_) once he saw the final product brewed. As long as he used the right ingredients in the right proportions, he knew it would turn out properly and have the correct properties. Harry viewed Snape's scowls as attacks on his confidence and responded with steely determination. Harry took to complimenting his lab partner and found that doing so increased their chance of success as well.

Yet Harry was confused about the meaning of needing the right ingredients and correct proportions. It didn't quite fit with his new understanding of magic. That was why he had decided to tell Hermione about his discovery. He needed her analytical mind to help him puzzle this out.

Harry was just on his way to see her and Ron when Ron turned around in fright and pointed behind him.

"Harry, run! It's the Grim!"

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><p><strong><em>Please Leave a Review. Don't make me Imperio you!<em>**


	4. Chapter 4: Unbelievable Turn of Events

**Chapter 4: Unbelievable Turn of Events**

Harry had been hoping Sirius Black would find him. After learning about the betrayal of his parents, Harry had been practicing what he would do to the man. The hard part was deciding just which spell to use to blast him. Finding out the "Grim" that had been stalking him since the beginning of the year was actually the murderer had made Harry's day.

But then everything had gone bollocks up.

First, Remus Lupin bursts in and disarms him and Hermione. _Remus Lupin!_ Then, after Harry wandlessly disarmed the ostensibly traitorous Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Severus Snape barged in and in turn stripped him of his wand! The greasy git.

When Professor Lupin tried to explain things and Sirius Black claimed he wasn't after Harry, Harry wandlessly disarmed Snape as well, the incredulity on the potions master's face priceless. Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione chose just then to cast _expelliramus_ on him as well, and the force of the two additional spells threw the man back into a wall and knocked him unconscious. Yeah, that was going to be a long detention. You can believe that.

Finding out that Sirius Black wasn't the traitor/murderer and that it was actually Ron's rat who had betrayed Harry's parents had been crazy. Getting back up from beneath the secret passage beneath the Whomping Willow was definitely awkward considering they had an unconscious greasy git, a best guy friend with a broken leg, an escaped convict who everyone had erroneously thought was out to kill Harry, and the rat (both figurative and literal) who actually did betray everyone. What do you say to something like that?

Of course, then Professor Lupin went and transformed into a bloody werewolf.

Peter Pettigrew took the opportunity to escape. The next thing they knew, Sirius Black, back in his black mastiff animagus form, was fighting off the werewolf, but was definitely getting the worst of the encounter. Then Werewolf-Remus grabbed Black and threw into the woods and out of the fight.

With a snarl, the lycanthrope turned and charged at Harry and Hermione. The creature was almost upon them when Harry remembered something from his 2nd year DADA class. With Lockhart. Harry almost tossed the idea aside considering the source.

But it was really his _only_ idea. It would have to do.

Instead of running, Harry pulled out his wand and took a step towards the transformed professor. "_Homorphia sapien_!" he shouted and jabbed his wand forward as if thrusting a rapier. Harry's eyes locked on Werewolf-Remus's as a beam of white shot from his wand to impact the charging lycanthrope.

And then the wolf-man howled in pain.

"Stop it, Harry! You're hurting him!"

Harry didn't relent. "No, Hermione. I'm curing him."

And they both watched as the wolf slowly, painfully, reverted back from werewolf form into human form. The teeth shrank back into his mouth, the claws became fingers. Fur gave way to pale skin. Remus's eyes became lucid for just a second, registering a moment of extreme gratitude, before they rolled back in unconsciousness.

"Harry, that's impossible! You can't cure a werewolf! The curse is permanent!"

Harry grinned widely. "Didn't you pay attention in Lockhart's class, Hermione? Gilderoy cured the Waga Waga Werewolf, at least according to his book series, right? And I did serve a month's detention with him, you know. You don't think we spent all that time just signing his fan mail, did you?"

"But," the bushy haired girl tried to protest, "Lockhart's a fraud. Isn't he?"

"A fraud, and a prat, no question, Hermione," Harry laughed. "But, he **did** witness someone actually do it, and I sort of remembered the incantation from Lockhart's book."

Hermione punched Harry in the shoulder. "You!" The look of absolute mortification, exasperation, and respect on her face was priceless. "That was a reckless risk to take! It might not have worked! And then the werewolf would have bitten you!" Harry just laughed at her reaction.

The air suddenly turned chilly. And things went dark.

"Dementors!" Hermione identified the sensation.

"Sirius!" Harry realized. They were coming for his godfather! His innocent, falsely imprisoned godfather who had just offered to take him in rather than him live with the Dursleys.

Harry ran, heading in the direction the dementors were going. Hermione did her best to keep up. But when they got there, it was clearly too late. There was no way to get to him before the attack. There were dementors everywhere, blackening the entire sky with their negative energy. Sirius was lying prone, in his human form, and some were already swooping down sucking away what little strength he had left. He had nothing to fight with. They would give him the Kiss.

"No!" Harry yelled. "YOU GET AWAY FROM MY GODFATHER!"

Hermione tried to restrain him, but he broke free from her.

"Harry, stop! You can't fight dementors! Even if you know the _patronus_ charm, you can't hope to drive this many away!"

Harry pulled out his wand. "I'm not going to drive them away, Hermione," Harry said savagely. "I'm going to destroy them. _Expecto Patroni_!"

Instead of just a single patronus, three great silver stags leapt out from Harry's wand. They charged out from Harry's position and battered the black shrouded apparitions of darkness. Under the cover of his warmth-filled summons, Harry advanced until he was standing next to the comatose escapee of Azkaban prison. A trio of dementors floated down towards him and his godfather.

Hermione watched in disbelief and horror.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry called out to her. With the dementors multiplying negative emotion, he could literally feel the effects of her doubt. "I've used this spell before," Harry lied. His reassurance worked, as he could feel the doubt immediately lessen. Harry pointed his wand at the trio of dark creatures and shouted, "_Demento Evanesca_!"

The three dementors vanished in a flash of white light. The black sky suddenly seemed to freeze in place. And then the dementors fled the school in droves.

Harry was left with a nearly lifeless godfather and a best witch friend staring at him in complete shock.

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><p><em><strong>AN:<strong> This chapter is particularly short, but the next will be particularly long._


	5. Chapter 5: Consequence

**Chapter 5: Consequence**

"Oh, I believe you," Dumbledore said sadly. "But I doubt the word of three underage students will convince many others."

Harry waited for the old wizard to leave and then he turned to Ron. "You've got to do it, Ron."

"Do what?" the boy said as he lay in the Hogwarts hospital wing with a broken leg.

"You've got to convince them that Sirius is innocent. Have another vision- of them catching Pettigrew and discovering that Sirius didn't betray my parents."

"Okay, Harry, I'll try mate…" Ron trailed off as he spoke.

At first, Harry thought Ron was performing his "I'm using the Inner Eye" act. Until he heard the snore. His best guy friend was unconscious.

"Ron!" Harry shouted. "Ron, wake up!"

Hermione shook her head. "It's no use, Harry. Madam Pomfrey gave him a Dreamless Sleep potion. It'll be hours before he comes to. And what's this about wanting him having another vision? I don't take Divinations and even I know that's not how it works."

"Actually, it is," Harry said before grabbing Hermione's arm. "Come on, Hermione, we need to see Professor Trelawney. She's the only one who can help us."

"Harry!" Hermione Granger protested, "What do you mean?"

"Look, Hermione, you were right. Divinations is a crock," Harry explained. "Ron only pretended to make his prediction and only went along with all that seer stuff because everyone expected him to." Harry explained as the pair raced towards Professor Trelawney's office in the north tower.

"But what about his prediction? And Neville?" the bushy haired witch protested.

"That's the thing, though, Hermione, it came true _because_ enough witches and wizards believed in it. The combined magic of their belief caused it to happen!" Harry was breathing hard as the pair reached the professor's door. "That's how prophecies work. Actually, it's how almost all magic works."

Hermione went stock still. "Harry, you're wrong. Magic doesn't just work on belief. There are rules and laws."

"Look, argue with me later, right now we have to convince Professor Trelawney to save Sirius."

Harry knocked loudly on the door. Professor Trelawney's somewhat befuddled voice responded. "Come in."

Harry opened the door and entered, followed by a reluctant and flabbergasted Hermione Granger.

"Professor Trelawney," Harry addressed the witch urgently. "Sirius Black is innocent of the crime he's about to executed for. Peter Pettigrew is the one who did it. He's an animagus and framed Black for what he did. You have to help us!"

The shocked expression on the Divinations teacher was not feigned. She had not expected to hear this at all. "How do you know this? You should see Headmaster Dumbledore at once!"

"We already went to him, professor, but he said nobody will believe us," Hermione interjected.

"How did you find this out?"

Harry told her what they had seen. The Divinations teacher looked taken aback. And overwhelmed.

"I see…but, I…I don't know. I think…Professor Dumbledore is right. Nobody will believe this."

Harry gave his teacher a shrewd look. "They will believe it if you tell them you saw it in a vision."

The professor's eyes went wide. Suddenly, her expression changed from one of an adult unsure of how to act, though wanting to help, to someone who seemed affronted by an accusation. "I'm sorry, young man, but what you are suggesting is dishonest. Twenty points from Gryff—"

Harry cut her off before she could finish. "Ron already saw Pettirgrew's eventual capture and confession in a vision, professor," Harry lied. "We heard him make the prediction before the potion he was given kicked in." Harry cast a conspiratorial glance at Hermione.

"Oh, right," the young witch said hesitantly. "So, you see, we're not asking you to make a false prophecy, just claim to have one that another seer had first."

Professor Trelawney looked at the pair critically. All appearance of the bumbling, fumbling witch was gone. She looked…shrewd. She met Harry's eyes for several seconds and held it as if gauging him. After a moment, she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, children, but I cannot in good conscience claim to have seen with the Inner Eye when I have not. It would be an affront to the Pillars of Fate." She made as if to leave.

Harry blocked her way. "We know how it really works, Professor." Harry was dead serious. "There is no 'Inner Eye' or any 'Pillars of Fate' telling you what's going to happen. You make it up. And if enough people believe in it, then it comes true. People's magic makes it true."

Professor Trelawney looked from Harry to Hermione. She saw the doubt in the young witch, but the conviction in the young wizard. "I see," she said. After a moment, she looked directly at Harry. "Let's go to the Headmaster then and explain things. After that, we'll see about saving Mr. Black."

While not exactly a ringing promise to do as they had asked, she was at least going to go with them to see Dumbledore. It was the right direction for saving Sirius. The Divinations teacher led the pair through the school. Harry noted that around the rest of the students, Professor Trelawney adopted a bit of a spacey appearance, looking around at the hall corners as if trying to remember which way to go. But their path was straight and they reached the stone gargoyles quickly.

"Caramel éclairs," the witch said with authority, and the statues moved to reveal the winding staircase leading to the Headmaster's office.

"Ah, Sybill, I see you have gotten…" Albus Dumbledore paused seeing Harry and Hermione behind the Diviniations teacher. He glanced at the arriving professor inquisitively.

Harry spoke first. "We've come to tell you about Professor Trelawney having a vision, Professor. We—"

"They know, Albus," Professor Trelawney interrupted.

There was a long beat. "How much?" the Headmaster asked in reply.

"Clearly too much," she responded. "Mr. Potter was the one convincing Miss Granger. They came to me pretending that they had heard Mr. Weasley give another prediction. Then they attempted to convince me to claim that I had had a vision of Sirius Black being exonerated by future testimony by Peter Pettigrew. Very imaginative, I thought."

"So, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, looking the young man in the eye. "You shared certain theories about the nature of divination with Miss Granger tonight? This is your first time discussing this with anyone?"

Harry looked into Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and nodded.

"Very well," the aged wizard said with a sigh. "_Obliviate_!"

Harry's jaw dropped just as suddenly as Hermione fell to the floor.

"Ah, Harry, you have put me in a most difficult position, my boy." Dumbledore turned his back to the incredulous young wizard. "Sybill, if you would, please take Miss Granger to the infirmary. Explain to Poppy that the young Gryffindor fainted away after hearing you make a prediction which I, and Mr. Potter here, also witnessed. I will handle things with Mr. Potter."

"Are you sure, Albus?" Professor Trelawney asked apprehensively. "He is still quite young."

"No, Sybill, in this I am not entirely certain. But I believe we have no better alternative."

The Divinations professor inclined her head and then levitated Hermione behind her. She left the room and the door leaving the Headmaster's office closed shut.

"This puts those glowing reports from your other professors over the past few months in a new, troubling light," Albus Dumbledore sighed before turning back to face Harry once more. Seeing the anxious look on Harry's face, Dumbledore nodded towards the outside. "Do not worry about Sirius Black, Harry. I've arranged for his execution to be stayed long enough for evidence to be found and presented to exonerate him. Unfortunately, the problems and choices we face here will be far harder than dealing with a falsely accused man."

Harry was bewildered. First, Dumbledore obliviates Hermione. Then he indicates that he intends to have Professor Trelawney make up a false vision to exonerate Sirius just as Harry had wanted. And now the man was saying that there was a problem more serious than…Sirius.

"Sir," Harry said respectfully, "I…I don't understand."

"Unfortunately, Harry, you do. And that is the problem."

The two stood looking at each other uncomfortably for a while.

"You're not going to obliviate me, too, are you?" Harry asked tentatively. He wanted to be angry, but facing the Headmaster after seeing him remove Hermione's memories without so much as batting an eye made him a bit more fearful than he normally would be in the Headmaster's presence.

"I wish I could, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said honestly.

Harry was taken aback by the frankness of the older wizard. He had expected to be reassured, fed some sort of story, and then probably obliviated anyway. "What do you mean? You mean you can't?"

"Tell me, Harry," the Professor asked in return without answering Harry's question, "how long have you known about the nature of prophecy? And what else do you know?"

Harry hesitated a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. Lying now would probably not be possible. "I've known about how prophecies work since Ron made his prediction and it came true. Took me a week or two to put it all together, but around that time."

"And what else?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Well, I realized that a lot of the rules of magic are not exactly rules. Like, how to wave your wand, or even needing a wand sometimes. It's whether you believe or not what's going to happen that matters."

Dumbledore sighed. "That's what I feared." The man let out another long sigh. "You are mostly correct, Harry, though knowing what you know would be a curse as much as a blessing for the average witch or wizard. For you, however, it is far worse."

"Professor, I don't see what the problem is."

"No, I suppose you have not thought it through yet," Dumbledore mused. "Tell me Harry, what is it about you that makes you special to the Wizarding world? I don't mean you individually to your friends and those who care about you. You are certainly valuable as a person. But, I mean to all of Magical Britain and the entire Magical world."

Harry looked at the Headmaster quizzically. "Well, I suppose, it was because I lived? I survived the Killing Curse and Voldemort was defeated?"

"Not only that, but you defeated him twice more since arriving at this school. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts and yours, Voldemort has managed to survive, albeit barely. Now, Harry, do you know why you were targeted by Voldemort in the first place?"

"There was supposed to be some kind of prophecy, right?"

Dumbledore nodded and waited. A moment later, the light went on.

"Oh. Hang on…Oh! You mean that…that prophecy? It's…oh!"

"Now you begin to see the problem."

"If the prophecy only works if I believe in it, then I have to believe in it or it is meaningless, right? But…since I know that prophecies are made up and only work if people believe in them, I can't really have faith in it."

"Essentially, yes. This knowledge is a dangerous thing for any witch or wizard to have. Which is why it is carefully guarded by those who possess it. But for you to have this knowledge is worse because the most important prophecy of our time is about you."

Harry paused for a moment. Now he understood why Dumbledore had acted as he had when he and Hermione came into the room. Harry closed his eyes and said two words he thought he would never utter. "Obliviate me."

He waited. Nothing happened.

Harry opened his eyes. "Sir, if my forgetting about the nature of prophecies is that important, you have to obliviate me. Go ahead."

Albus Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid it is much too late for that, Harry. Unfortunately, memory charms are very delicate and require great amounts of skill to be used to great effect. Even then, there are limits to what they can accomplish without risking permanent damage to the mind. With as much as you have learned and as long as you have known it, if I were to obliviate a specific moment in your mind, you would soon rediscover the secret by piecing together the rest of your memories. The only way would be to completely erase the entire school year."

"Then so be it," Harry volunteered bravely.

Harry's willingness was deeply touching to the Headmaster. "Oh, Harry," the old wizard said emotionally. "Willing though you are in this matter, I'm afraid such an action would be potentially even more damaging than the knowledge you have." Dumbledore saw Harry look at him expectantly for elaboration. "You, more than any one else in the world, more than me and more than the Ministry of Magic, you represent hope to the witches and wizards of the world. If something as catastrophic as you losing a year worth of memory were to occur… I'm afraid the consequential weakening of morale would have a net effect even worse than your disbelief in the prophecy of your defeating Voldemort."

"But the only way to defeat Voldemort is through me…" Harry stopped and then pondered. He only believed he was the one to do it because of the prophecy, a prophecy which Harry now knew had been fabricated the way all prophecies were fabricated. "Wait. If anyone can defeat him, why have the prophecy at all? Why all the games and deception?"

Once again, Professor Dumbledore answered the question with another question. "Harry, do you know why Tom Riddle is the most feared dark wizard in history?"

"He's a ruthless murderer? And powerful? He uses the Killing Curse loads of times?"

"That is all part of his power, yes, but not the true reason he is so feared." Dumbledore looked directly at Harry. "It's his belief in himself, Harry. Voldemort believes so strongly in his own legend, so powerfully in his own immortality and omnipotence, that he is far stronger than any dark wizard in memory. No wizard struck by the Killing Curse from his wand has ever survived. And no curse from an auror has ever penetrated his shield."

"But, how is that different from any other Death Eater?"

"Harry, I think you are laboring under a false belief that you are the only one to ever be hit by the Killing Curse and live. That is not so. Most senior aurors have been hit by the _avadra kedavra_ curse at some time or another and lived. Were a child with a wand to cast it recklessly, it would do little more than sting. Dark wizards can cast it upon their enemies, but if their enemy's belief in their ability to survive is stronger than the caster's belief that they will die, the victim can survive. But nobody, I repeat, nobody has been hit by Tom Riddle casting the curse on them and lived."

Harry nodded. "I think I get it. Riddle thinks he is unstoppable, which makes him more powerful because of the power of his belief. Those he battles believe the same thing, making their defense against him weaker. So, in the end, it makes it true. And everyone he faces dies."

"Exactly, Harry. Several aurors and duelists have attempted to stand up to him and prove his vulnerability, but they have all fallen. The idea behind using a prophecy against him was to make him doubt his own invulnerability and believe in the power of a force capable of defeating him."

This made Harry pause and think. "So, when Voldemort acted on the news of the prophecy and sought to kill an infant that might fulfill it, he tacitly bought into the prophecy. Had he ignored it and simply doubted it, it would have had no effect. But he didn't. Brilliant, Professor!"

A sour look crossed the Headmaster's face. "Yes, it was a brilliant move. Unfortunately, the costs were far higher than I would have liked."

"My parents," Harry said soberly.

"Yes, Harry. And not only them. But now, I'm afraid we have run out of time. Events have been set in motion and I must act now if we are to save your godfather."

"Professor, if we manage to save Sirius…could I stay with him for the summer?"

Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry apologetically. "Yes, Harry, you absolutely can. In any event, you will not be returning to the Dursleys. I'm afraid I have some apologizing to do to you on that score. But for now, you will need to return to the dorms. We will speak about this again further. For now, I trust that you will speak of this to nobody else?"

Harry nodded his agreement.

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><p>.<p>

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> _There will be a bit of a break after this before I continue/finish this story. I will finish this story whether people review or not, but more reviews might convince me to expand the story more than I originally planned. If interest is low, I'll move on to something else._ _If this story suddenly gains a larger audience I would add more to accommodate them._


	6. Omake: Draco

**Omake: Draco**

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> The following is not part of the regular story. It's just here for fun as a treat from a particular reviewer who has been leaving comments for every chapter._

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><p><em>Warning: M-preg.<em>

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><p>Draco Malfoy's third year of Hogwarts had been a horrible disaster. Everyone had heard the Weasley boy predict that he, Draco Malfoy, would give birth to a bald child. Worse still, it had actually started to come true. Everywhere he went he was followed by whispers and rumors. Even Crabbe and Goyle had asked him if he were going to have a boy or a girl.<p>

Madame Pomfrey had attempted to prevent anything from happening. She gave him a few specially brewed potions that were supposed to inhibit pregnancy. When the school medi-witch gave him both the potion meant for men and the kind meant for women, Draco had been mortified. Worst of all, some of the sixth year Slytherin girls had seen what he had been taking and recognized it. Their laughter and wide eyes was more than he could stand.

So, he called his father.

He very soon wished he hadn't. The scowl he received from Lucius Malfoy, head of the Malfoy family, still made him cringe. But his father had pulled out every stop. He'd been taken to St. Mungo's, followed by a private clinic for the extremely wealthy, and even a very dark and scary shop off of Knockturn Alley. The things he had to swallow and the "cleansing" magics he had to endure were torture.

But they hadn't worked.

Three months after the Weasley prediction, Draco started to "show." At first it seemed to be just a little bloating. But then Draco started waking up nauseous. And started craving all kinds of odd kinds of food, including some Muggle candy. When he went back to Madame Pomfrey, she performed a diagnostic test and gasped, her hand going over her mouth.

"What?" he snapped at her. "What is it? I demand that you tell me what I have!"

"Well, I think it's still a little too early to tell what you'll have for sure…"

"What do you mean?" he asked in a cold voice.

"Congratulations?"

Draco was excused from his classes and sent back to Malfoy Manor. Fortunately for him, his father could afford to bring in tutors from all over to make sure he did not fall behind.

But it wasn't his behind that was the problem. It was his belly. It kept growing and swelling to the point that no wizard robe could conceal what had happened to him. Neither his father nor his mother was willing to so much as be seen with him.

And then the summer came and at last, the time the prophecy foretold came. Draco was left alone in his room with a private witch doctor specializing in magical births. His father and mother were nowhere to be seen.

"There, there, young Malfoy. The pain will go away soon. Here ya go," she said, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth.

He would have been grateful, if that was part of his character. As it were, he grunted a thanks and braced himself against the burning pain in his abdomen.

Burning pain? Now, Draco was no expert on child birth, but he was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be a _burning_ feeling.

And then his belly began to glow luminously. "AAAHHH!" the youngest Malfoy, at least for the next few minutes, screamed in agony. And then the part of his belly where the child was began to warp and detach from him. The medi-witch hurried over and wrapped the shape with a blanket. And then it was done.

"That's it?" Draco yelled.

"Well, what did you expect, young Draco," the witch asked kindly. "Did you expect to give birth the same way as a woman? No, I am sure that would kill you. Consider yourself lucky. Nevertheless, you're a mother."

"A father! I'm a father, you stupid hag!"

"Yes, right, a father."

"Well, what is it? A boy or a girl?" he asked impatiently.

"Well, look for yourself. The wee thing has nary a bit of hair on its head."

Draco sat up, feeling extremely drained, but physically fine. He looked over at the child in the medi-witch's arms.

And then Draco's scream could be heard throughout the entire manor.

Draco Malfoy had given birth to a house elf.


	7. Chapter 6: Back to School

**Chapter 6: Back to School**

Platform 9 3/4 was a beehive of activity. Witches and wizards made their way along the platform as children dashed madly around, excitedly striking up conversations with their friends and classmates from the previous year. A pair of red-headed twins roared with laughter, surrounded on all sides by a throng of students vying for access to the pair. The heads of important Wizarding families met with curt nods and handshakes and began the banter that hid the maneuvering for political and social power such meetings almost always attended.

A tall man with thick, dark hair, an aristocratically trimmed beard and mustache stepped through the portal onto the platform, accompanied by a smiling brown haired boy with green eyes and a noticeable scar on his forehead. The entire station suddenly went still and quiet, only the whispers of "Sirius Black!" breaking the silence. And then there was a roar of fevered excitement.

"It's Him!"

"Harry Potter!"

"The-Boy-Who-Lived!"

"The genius who mastered Gilderoy Lockhart's _homorphia_ charm and invented the charm that destroys dementors!"

"The next Albus Dumbledore!"

The awed whispers and half whispers that met the pair as they stepped onto the platform subsided as Sirius put his hand on Harry's shoulder comfortingly and strode forward into the crowd with the young wizard at his side. Harry glanced at his godfather, catching the warmth in the man's reassuring smile before the man slipped on the persona of Lord Sirius Black and a mask of self-importance and mild arrogance slid over his expression. Sirius strode forward as if he owned the platform, and Harry matched his guardian's pace and set his gaze straight ahead.

Several people who Harry couldn't remember ever having seen before in his life tried to approach Sirius and Harry as they walked forward along the train platform, but Sirius didn't even pause, and Harry stuck with Sirius, leaving them standing gawking as the pair moved unimpeded forward. When they reached Molly and Arthur Weasley, Sirius stopped, gave them a smile and shook hands with the both of them. The message was sent. Harry Potter would speak to who he wanted to, not to everyone who came rushing up to him.

"I must thank you, Arthur, for all of your support over the summer," Sirius said warmly.

"Oh, it was nothing," the red headed man humbly deflected. "You should thank Molly. She was the one always cooking up extras. All I did was drop them off on my way off to the Ministry."

"As if I could ignore the woman who kept me and Harry here from starving to death! I don't know what we would have done without your cooking, Molly"

Mrs. Weasley gave a self-conscious laugh as Sirius gave her a chaste hug.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry broke in, "where's Ron? I haven't seen him on the platform. I see Fred and George. And there's Ginny. But I can't see Ron at all."

"Oh, I'm sure he's hiding himself up here somewhere, probably already on the train in one of the compartments trying to avoid the crowd. Had all sorts of visitors and attention over the summer holidays, our Ron," Molly changed mid-sentence from addressing Harry to Sirius, a hint of pride in her voice. "To think that we had a seer in the family the whole time…"

Harry took his leave of his godfather, giving the man a brief, but fierce hug before taking off for the train. A number of fourth year classmates called out to Harry, and he gave them a friendly wave and a smile, but he quickly made his way onto the train. Finding Ron wasn't hard. He was in one of only a few compartments with all the blinds on the doors closed. Harry stated to open the door, to hear a gruff voice call out, "All full in here, sorry."

Harry opened the door the rest of the way to see Ron sitting there alone in an otherwise completely empty train compartment. Harry gave him a grin. "Yeah, Ron, full of hot air!"

"Harry!" Ron shouted, much louder than he needed to, and bounded over to give his best friend a hug. "So glad to see you, mate! All the attention I was getting was about to drive me mental."

"And you think having Harry Potter around you again is going to bring you less attention?" a familiar voice called out from the doorway. "It seems you've gone mental already."

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed with a grin, rushing over to hug the witch and help her with her luggage.

"Yeah, but now all the attention will be on him instead of me," Ron responded with a grin. "Who's gonna bother me about some lousy prophecy when we have the curer of werewolves and the bane of dementors with us?"

"Well, I for one, am looking forward to a year with absolutely no excitement, adventure, or life threatening situations at all," Harry said emphatically.

"Oh, come on, Harry, we're going to Hogwarts! There's no place safer!" Hermione chided.

"Oh, well, let's see. There was a three-headed dog first year, not to mention a unicorn killing ghost of the dark wizard who killed my parents. Second year there were only two of the deadliest creatures in the world at the school: a few _thousand_ acromantulas and a basilisk. Oh, and another ghost of the dark wizard who killed my parents. And then last year we had hippogriffs, werewolves, and dementors. Oh, and the traitorous wizard who betrayed my parents to the dark wizard. Yep, sounds like the safest place in the world to me."

"Well, to be fair, Harry, the hippogriff was on our side. Even took a swipe at Malfoy for us," Ron chimed in with a grin on his face. "But after all that, what could possibly go wrong? What are they going to do? Make you fight dragons and then make you fight against seventh years?"

Ron had no idea how prophetic his words were going to be.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>The start of year feast had scarcely finished when Harry found himself summoned to the Headmaster's office. He had been in contact with Professor Dumbledore frequently over the summer, but mostly in a social capacity to look in on him. And to apologize for every having stuck him with the Dursleys. When asked why he hadn't done something about the situation beforehand, Dumbledore had been very contrite.<p>

"_I'm afraid, Harry, that is the worst of my failing in this, and I must apologize for not doing more than I did to prevent what happened to you at that house. In truth, I was not aware of how badly you were treated until after you came to Hogwarts. I had placed spells to alert me if your life was in danger, and I looked in on your situation from time to time as my schedule permitted, but I never witnessed any of the worst of your treatment."_

_Harry nodded, accepting that much, but Dumbledore forestalled him._

"_But that negligence on my part does not excuse my sending you back to your relatives after I knew better about your situation. You see, Harry, I was taking a bit of a gamble. It is true that the nature of your mother's sacrifice placed a special protection on you, one that I am certain was responsible for the defeat of Voldemort when you were still an infant. But when it came to the power and effectiveness on the blood wards that protected you at the Dursley's home, the truth is that they were not innately as powerful as I led you to believe."_

_Harry furrowed his brow. "What do you mean professor?"_

"_Blood magic does have power, it is true. But that power is tied more directly to the belief of those whose blood powers it than most magic does. The stronger your belief in its protection, the stronger the protection truly is."_

"_Right, so, as long as I believed that my mom's magic really protected me, it would be strong. But if I didn't believe in it, then it would be weak."_

"_Just so. But when I discovered you were being…ill-treated at home I made a decision that I have long regretted, but didn't dare to undo. I only hope that you can have it in you to forgive me."_

_Harry listened expectantly._

"_I left you in their care, if it can be called that. I thought that if you were treated poorly, and you knew that I knew how you were treated, then you would think the protection the blood wards afforded you must be exceptionally strong. In a way, I counted on their abuse of you to strengthen the protection you received."_

_Harry sucked in his breath, understanding. It was true. When he realized that Dumbledore would do nothing about the Dursleys, other than sending them a stern warning, Harry had come to the conclusion that Dumbledore must know that the protection was impenetrable. Harry had believed it. And that would have made it true._

"_I understand, Professor. You did it for my protection," Harry said, but biting off the words in an accusing tone. "For the greater good, right?"_

"_No," Dumbledore admitted. "Not entirely. There was a part of me, a prideful part of me Harry, that wanted to see just how much stronger those wards would be come as your belief in them strengthened. It was not worth it. The protection. Finding out. It wasn't worth what you went through." Tears trailed down the Headmaster's cheeks. "But even after I knew it wasn't worth it...I couldn't admit my mistake. I couldn't take you from it then, because, then, all of your suffering would have been…"_

"_For nothing," Harry finished. "Like it is now."_

_Dumbledore looked at Harry speechless._

_It was the sincerity of the man's remorse that decided him. Harry walked over to Albus Dumbledore and put his hand on the man's arm and looked into his eyes._

"_I forgive you."_

Harry breathed in deeply, then entered Professor Dumbledore's chamber. This was the first time he had seen the Professor alone since that painful admission.

"Hello, Harry," the Headmaster greeted him.

"Professor." Harry stated, looking around the room curiously at all the objects the Headmaster had collected. Then he asked a question that had been on his mind for some time. "Professor, what am I doing here? Not your office. Hogwarts. Why am I coming to this school? Or why is anyone studying here for that matter?"

Dumbledore smiled, the twinkle in his eye lightening his often grave expression. "An excellent question. And to answer that is exactly why I called you here today."


	8. Chapter 7: Study Problems

**Chapter 7: Studying Problems**

"Hello, Harry," the Headmaster greeted him.

"Professor." Harry stated, looking around the room curiously at all the objects the Headmaster had collected. Then he asked a question that had been on his mind for some time. "Professor, what am I doing here? Not your office. Hogwarts. Why am I coming to this school? Or why is anyone studying here for that matter?"

Dumbledore smiled, the twinkle in his eye lightening his often grave expression. "An excellent question. And to answer that is exactly why I called you here today."

"Okay, so explain it, please. I mean, if what we're learning in these books is really just a load of rubbish, then why have everyone learn it?"

"Tell me, Harry, what would be the consequence of every witch or wizard knowing that the power of their belief is the single greatest factor in determining the effects of their magic?"

"Well, I guess everyone would be a lot more powerful and could do anything they wanted with magic," Harry answered with a frown. There didn't seem anything wrong with that to him.

"Not exactly. You see, there are rules and limitations to magic, Harry, and wizards do have different degrees of natural talent in using magic. Professor Trelawney, for example, is comparatively weak for a witch. But she is able to use her magical prowess to nearly its full potential. Other wizards, such as young Neville Longbottom, for example, only use a small fraction of their potential power because of self-doubt or because they are unsure of the many rules of magic."

"So, why not just let Neville know that magic is based on belief? Wouldn't that help him get better?"

"Perhaps. But perhaps not. Belief in belief can be paradoxically damaging to self-confidence. In the case of Mr. Longbottom, he would most likely doubt whether or not his belief was strong enough, and in so doing, he would make it so that it would not be. But there are others who would have no doubt at all about their power to wield magic. What, Harry, do you think would be the consequence of Lucius Malfoy gaining the knowledge you have? Or any of the Death Eaters?"

Harry paled at the thought.

Dumbledore nodded. "So, then, Harry, tell me. Why do we teach all these complex rules and instructions for casting spells? Why do we create these artificial limitations in the minds of witches and wizards?"

"To keep control," Harry answered immediately. "It's a way of limiting everyone. We still learn useful stuff to do with magic, but with extra rules and requirement to make sure nobody can get too strong." Harry paused for a moment, frowning. "But what if someone who shouldn't know something like this does find out? What then?"

"Oh, there have been dark wizards who have discovered this truth. More than one. Fortunately, they always keep their knowledge to themselves, unwilling to share their discovery and the power that can come with it. But while they are not likely to spread the secret to others, they are terrible dangers to the Wizarding world." Dumbledore's words were sad, even haunted. "They learn to harness people's fears, manufacture strength, and masterfully instill doubt in their opponents. It is the unfortunate responsibility of all those with the knowledge we share to destroy any such threat to the stability of the world." Albus looked a bit uncomfortable with the subject.

Harry nodded in understanding. Grindelwald. Harry was only passingly familiar with the rise and defeat of that particular dark wizard, the dark lord who had been defeated before the rise of Voldemort, but Harry knew that it had been Albus Dumbledore who had put an end to it. Harry knew few of the details, but he knew that the experience had changed the headmaster. Harry did not press the matter further.

"So, now that you understand the purpose of the sort of education that takes place in Hogwarts, can you guess why I need to speak with you about this?"

Harry thought for a moment. "I won't be taking classes with everyone else? You're going to teach me about the real principles of magic yourself?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "As much as it would please me to do so, Harry, I'm afraid that is not really possible. Discovering the true laws of magic is something that every witch or wizard who learns the truth of the nature of magic must do for themselves. You see, if I were to just tell you something was really a rule of magic, how could you distinguish it from any of the other rules and laws you have been taught? If you were to believe me, wouldn't that belief influence the effects of the magic? And if you doubted my word, wouldn't your doubt itself work against you? In the end, the only way will be to try it for yourself and to observe.

"Don't worry, I will give you some guidance, but that is not why it was important that I speak with you at the start of term. It is important that you realize how crucial it is that you appear to be following the same rules as everyone else in your use of magic. Were others to see that you did magic in ways that was not supposed to be possible, they would get it in their heads that magic is not what they thought it was."

Harry frowned. "You mean, I still have to take all the classes and do all the homework, just like everyone else?" Dumbledore nodded. "Even though I know most of it isn't really important?" Dumbledore nodded again. "So, you called me up here just to tell me that I have to follow the class schedule?"

The elderly wizard chuckled again. "It is much worse than that, I'm afraid. You cannot just ignore the rules of magic simply because you know they are not actually rules of magic, Harry. Now that you know the nature of the rules, you must understand the rules better than everyone else, you must know them and _follow_ them, and then, if there is a time when you need to break the rules, everyone must believe you know the rules deeper and better than they do and that the reason they think it cannot be done is because they simply do not understand things as well as you."

Harry looked at Dumbledore aghast. "Even Hermione?"

Dumbledore fixed Harry with a keen gaze. "Especially Hermione."

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>The first few days of term were frustrating for Harry. Getting into the new routines for fourth year was compounded by the difficulty of appearing to struggle along with everyone else. Of course, when it came to magical theory, he didn't have to pretend to struggle. While he had been an average student before when it came to the theoretical side of magic, now that he knew most of the theories he was studying were made up or based on false assumptions, he had an even greater time paying attention to it or concentrating on his work.<p>

Which meant he had to fake failure on the practical side of things. If his wand movements weren't precise or if his pronunciation was not spot on, he needed to make the spell not work, which was hard when in his mind he knew that it _should_ work. It was only when he caught on to the idea of only pretending to cast a spell, sort of like pretending to make a prediction like Ron had, that Harry found a way to fake failure. He would first go through the motions of the spell without intending for the spell to be cast, and then follow it up with a second, silent spell, the choice of silent spell to use depending on whether or not he had used the correct motion.

Fortunately for him, most of the class was less concerned about him being a "magical prodigy," as he was now being hailed by the Daily Prophet, and more about the upcoming Tri-Wizard Tournament and the visiting students which had been announced during the opening feast. The other students from the French school and the Scandanavian one would be arriving and there was a furor over the identity of one of the students, Viktor Krum, a professional Quidditch star coming with the students from Durmstrang Institute of Magic. So, Harry's rekindled celebrity status had taken a backseat to the gossip about what the new students would be like. He couldn't have been more pleased about that.

Today they were practicing a charm that animated blocks of ice into miniature figurines. It wasn't a very practical spell, but it was simple in terms of pronunciation and used the double infinite loop motion with a wand, which would be the form they would be practicing over the coming few weeks for various spells. Harry hadn't quite gotten the motion right, yet, so rather than cast the spell for real he would make the motion, say the incantation, and then shoot a magical spark at the ice. It looked very much what was happening with Ron.

"At least I'm not the only one having trouble, mate," Ron said a little too loudly to be conspiratorial.

Harry shook his head ruefully. "You'll get it, Ron. We just have to get the motion right. I think you're not rounding yours enough. I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Harry said. And it was the truth. Hermione had tried to correct his wand movement earlier, but he couldn't tell the difference between what she did and what he was doing.

He practiced the flourish again without speaking the words. Still didn't seem right. So, he turned back to his ice prepared to fake another spark. Just as he said the words and began to make the motion, Professor Flitwick's voice startled him.

"Mr. Potter—"

Harry's wand made a small twirl and he stabbed his wand towards the ice cubes. Unfortunately, he was too surprised to remember to only pretend to cast the spell. He felt his magic leap out towards the ice and he knew he had cast the spell successfully. After all, he had done it on his first try, not even knowing what the proper wand motion was supposed to be.

"That is not the proper wand motion we are practicing, you-" Flitwick began, only to stop mid-sentence when he saw three perfect ice figurines that looked like Harry, Ron, and Hermione playing together. "Oh, Merlin, that's perfect. But…" The small Charms professor paused and looked carefully from Harry to the animated ice sculptures which were dancing around.

Harry gulped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor. I sort of used Fortuna's Whirl instead of the double infinity there. I was just tired of not getting it right," he lied.

"Fortuna's Whirl?" Flitwick considered for a moment. Then he looked at the dancing figurines, rather impressed. "I would not have thought of using that wand motion, but I see that it can be used as a substitute for this charm. Let me see the wand motion, again, Mr. Potter."

Harry slowly made a whirling gesture with his wand, then snapped it forward for the Charms professor to see. Fortunately, Harry had no problems making that particular motion properly.

"I say, very good Mr. Potter. Excellent use of a substitution in spell casting! It takes a lot of talent to be able to pull off something like that, a great deal of talent. Whatever made you think of using such a lesser known movement?"

"Actually, Hermione put me on to it," Harry said truthfully. "She was helping me with my wand work when I asked if there were a simpler motion to use and she mentioned it to me as working for some charms. I dunno why, but I found it easier than the Double Infinity."

"Ten points to Gryffindor for exceptional skill, Mr. Potter! But now, if you would, please continue practicing the motion we are studying today. There are many spells where a whirl simply will not do."

Harry grinned to himself after Flitwick was gone, but his smile faded when he saw a dark look on Ron's face.

"Look, Harry, you don't have to pretend you're not a genius just to make me look good. Guess I _am_ the only one who can't get it right," he said with annoyance.

"Hey, Ron, it's not like that. I really am having trouble getting the motion right."

Ron grimaced and turned away from Harry to grab up his ice cubes. "Yeah, whatever. You can keep showing off, but I'm going to practice somewhere else." Then he stalked off to an open table.


	9. Chapter 8: Ron's Rough Time

**Chapter 8: Ron's Rough Time**

Things were not going well for Ron Weasley.

Nobody was paying him any attention. It was like he wasn't even there. His own mum had sent Harry more letters than she had sent Ron. Worse, Ron couldn't try out for the Quidditch team this year because of the bloody Tri-wizard tournament. Quidditch had been cancelled. That wouldn't have been a total loss with Viktor Krum, Ron's absolute idol from the Bulgarian national team, coming to the school along with the Durmstrang contingent, except that the wizard sports star wouldn't acknowledge Ron long enough to give an autograph. He was always followed by packs of moon-eyed girls.

Not that anyone noticed. No, his best mate and Hermione never really thought about Ron, did they? It was always Harry this or Harry that. Never mind that Harry had beaten the Dark Lord, saved his sister from a basilisk and a demented diary, won the Quidditch House Cup for Gryffindor almost single-handedly, they really should be paying attention to him, Ron. This was supposed to be his year to be popular.

Of course, Ron knew he was thinking like a prat. He had known it when Harry had gotten that charm right when he couldn't. Ron knew the little spat they had afterwards was really all his own fault. But it needled him that Hermione had immediately sided with Harry. Yeah, he knew he was the one who was wrong, and that was part of what was eating at him.

And what was with Harry and Hermione suddenly spending so much time studying together? It was as if he wasn't good enough to hang out with the two of them any more. Okay, mind you, Ron had no interest in studying about Gamp's laws or the application of arithmantic sequences to conjuration, but when did Harry care about that? And Ron didn't like how close the two were sitting or how animated Hermione would get when Harry apparently started to catch on to whatever it was they were studying. Not that Ron was jealous. Of course not. It was just that, well, she shouldn't be looking at Harry like that!

Things had been so much better over the summer. Ron had been interviewed by the _Daily Prophet_, received owls from several important people in the Wizarding world, and had even been examined by an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries. Oh, sure, it got to be a bother after a while. But it really wasn't so bad. Especially since his interview had been on page four of the _Daily Prophet_, while Harry got the front page for blowing up a dementor and curing a werewolf. Ron had been mentioned in the main article on Sirius Black being innocent. He was in three lines of the article. Harry, however, was mentioned every other sentence. Everything was "Sirius Black, godfather of The-Boy-Who-Lived..." or "Harry Potter, recently famed for curing lycanthropy through the homorphous charm, is now staying with Lord Sirius Black…"

Ron shook his head to clear it of these uncharitable thoughts. He had apologized to Harry about the blow up in Charms and the two of them were back to being best mates. Thinking about rubbish like that was a sure way to go mental. Ron dashed through the halls on the way to meet up with his friends for class.

As Ron turned a corner, he caught sight of a group of female students wearing pastel blue uniforms. Girls from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, also at Hogwarts as part of the Tri-wizard tournament. There was something about French witches and their accents that made the Weasley boy's heart flutter. Or maybe it was the magical butterflies that the girls would create around themselves from time to time that were fluttering. Rumor had it some of them were even part veela. Ron caught them talking to each other mid-conversation.

"…_Mais oui_! You are correct! It is zis 'orrible 'ogwarts food 'zey serve here. It is as if zey are try_ing_ to ruin my fig_ure_!" the plumper of the trio was saying, her accent stressing the English syllables in a most French way.

"What does it matter? 'Zere is no boys to attract here, Cherie. So few of the Hogwarts stu-dents are handsome. But of course, 'zere is Monsieur Krum…" another said.

"Ah…Krum. He is so very strong and rugged. But…" the third, a truly pretty blond witch was saying, "…for me, I think 'zis 'Arry Potter is so striking. 'Zey say 'e has cured were-wolfs and defeated 'ze de_men_tors."

The first girl giggled. "Yes. And 'is eyes are such a pretty green."

Ron grinned. He was definitely going to tease his mate about this later. He listened a bit more, staying out of sight but within hearing range.

"Yes, 'Arry is _très beau_. But 'e is always with 'zat girl and his _strange_ friend."

"Ze one who is going mad?"

"_Oui_. 'Zey say 'e sees 'ze future. Like 'zat Divi_na_tions teach with the thick gla_zzes_. It is too bad 'zat one is always aroun' such a catch, _non_?"

Ron's face went bright pink in embarrassment. Inwardly he was seething, but he did nothing as the visiting students flounced off, still gossiping together.

Ron took some steadying breaths. This was nothing. Just a bunch of girls from some stuck up French school who really knew nothing about him. Who wanted a bunch of half-veela witches anyway? By the time Ron neared the classroom where he was about to meet up with Harry and Hermione, he had nearly managed to convince himself that he was better off without their attention and that the girls had been hideously ugly as well as haughty.

That was when he saw Harry standing there…with Viktor Krum. And they were chatting. Ron watched in amazement as Krum signed something of Harry's. Then, unbelievably, Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian national team seeker and Ron's idol, was handing Harry a book and Harry was giving _his_ autograph to the professional Quidditch star!

"Zank-you, Harry. It was an honor to meet you. And a pleasure to meet you as well, Hermione," Viktor was saying when Harry handed his book and pen back to him.

Ron managed to collect his wits, hurrying over to join up with his friends and his favorite Quidditch player who wasn't playing for the Chuddley Cannons. Just as he was about to say his hello, though, Viktor Krum pivoted to leave and nearly knocked Ron off his feet.

"Umph…" Ron grimaced. Viktor shot Ron an annoyed look, then began walking away. Ron hurriedly called out, "Um, could you sign this?"

Viktor Krum didn't even look to see Ron's second hand textbook being extended towards him.

"Sorry, about that, there, Ron," Harry said to him apologetically. "Krum must have been late to his own classes. I'm sure you'll get him to autograph something for you soon."

Ron choked with frustration. Then he noticed the official, full color magically moving glossy poster of the seeker flying in action that Viktor had given Harry. The message the star had written on the poster was: "To Harry, my favorite fan. Hope we can have a chance to fly together some day. Your dear friend, Viktor Krum."

Neither Harry nor Hermione had ever seen Ron turned that shade of purple before, at least without Ron having first eaten something from Fred or George.


	10. Chapter 9: Chosen by Fate

**Chapter 9: Chosen by Fate**

The entire school was full of whispers and conversations about who would be the representative for Hogwarts in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. When the Headmaster announced that a witch or wizard from the school would represent Hogwarts, more than one eye turned Harry's way, despite him only being a Fourth Year. When Dumbledore had announced that only students who were legally adults could participate, only Seventh Years and some Sixth Years eligible, there had been quite the furor. Harry had breathed a sigh of relief. Especially considering what had been said next.

"_While it is understandable that many of you will be excited by adventure and challenge of presented by the Tri-Wizard Tournament, it is for good reason that students below the age of seventeen will not be permitted to submit their names," the Hogwarts Headmaster had said to quiet some of the protests. "While every effort will be made to ensure the safety of all participants, there is and always has been an element of mortal danger in this tournament. A wizard or witch not fully prepared for the challenges could die. Even well prepared wizards and witches have met with serious injury and even death throughout the history of the Tri-Wizard tournament, which is in part why not only the winners but all participants are held in such high regard and considered champions for the rest of their lives. It is for the protection of you, my dear students, that I have drawn an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire to prevent the possibility of any too young to enter putting their names in._

"_As for those of you that are of age who may consider putting your name into the cup, I ask you to consider carefully your choice. Once your name is placed into the Goblet of Fire there is no turning back. If you are selected to represent your school you will be bound by an unbreakable magical contract. Failure to participate would have dire consequences for the one who backs down. And by dire, I mean the loss of your magic and a curse of ill luck that has felled more witches and wizards than all the challenges of the Tri-Wizard tournament put together." After speaking those foreboding words of warning, the entire Hall had become deathly silent. After a beat, Dumbledore had smiled, clapped his hands together, and asked, "So, who wants to go first?"_

It had been a week since then, and the time for the selection was nearing. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had discussed who would represent the different schools as much as anyone. Ron was sure that Durmtrang would be represented by Viktor Krum, an assertion that neither Harry nor Hermione disputed. The young man was built like a freight train and had an air of confidence about him that made everyone step back when he walked through the halls. The French school was a harder call to make, as they had very little knowledge of the Beauxbatons students, but there were certainly a lot of discussion about which of the French witches was the most attractive, much to Hermione's annoyance. When it came to the Hogwarts champion, though, there was a huge split in opinions among the three over who would represent the school. Hermione favored one of the 7th year Ravenclaws, Mary Hart, whom the younger witch thought was the smartest student attending Hogwarts. Ron could admit Miss Hart probably was, other than Hermione, but Ron was sure that one of the older Gryffindors would be chosen over that bookworm. Harry was not so sure. He was on record as being happy for whoever it was, as long as it wasn't anyone from Slytherin. Or himself. Ron, however, was of a different mind about being selected.

_Ron had spoken of being able to enter the competition in dreamy terms. "Wouldn't it be something if one of us could be chosen, Harry?"_

"_Yeah, Ron, it would be something. Something out of a nightmare. You wouldn't catch me entering this tournament in a million years. Not a chance."_

"_Oh come on, mate! It would be incredible!" Ron had a wistful look on his face. "Imagine, me holding the Tri-Wizard Cup. Ronald Weasley, rich and famous…" He trailed off, then somewhat guiltily added on, "Or it would be swell if you were chosen. I mean, you are the Boy-Who-Lived, and all."_

"_The less said about that the better," Harry said with a roll of his eyes._

"_Yeah, well, too bad Dumbledore put that Age Line around the cup. I would enter the tournament for sure if it weren't for that."_

_Harry chuckled. "But you do have to admit your brothers looked funny with long white beards and hair after they tried to get past it with that aging potion."_

_Ron smiled cheerfully at the memory. "Yeah, that was brilliant. I just wished I could have gotten a picture of that. Still, too bad that hadn't worked or I would have put my name in, too."_

That conversation had taken place just two days before. Now all the students were gathered in the Great Hall once more, sitting together in groups on small wooden stands pushed up against the walls. Harry sat at the top of one of the bleachers flanked by his two best friends. He was looking forward to cheering for whomever the cup chose to represent Hogwarts. As the stands filled up, the noise in the hall grew as the tension and excitement rose. All around Harry and his friends were members of Gryffindor, the red and gold crests of the House distinguishing his house mates from the rest of the Hogwarts students.

The crowd came to a hush as Dumbledore entered the room and raised his hands, the flaming torches lining the walls slowly dampening, the large room slowly darkening. The only illumination now came from the ancient wooden chalice sitting in the middle of the room spewing bright red and orange flames into the air. There was a collective intake of breath as the Goblet of Fire suddenly shot out a gout of flame and a slightly burned scrap of paper floated down into Professor Dumbledore's waiting hands.

"The champion for the Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning is…Viktor Krum!" Loud cheers erupted from all around the room, both from the Drumstrang section, and from scads of his adoring female fans from the two other schools.

Ron almost sounded like one of them. When he finished whooping, he leaned over Harry to state with a small smirk, "Told you!"

After a second piece of parchment was disgorged by the goblet, this one clearly a fine piece of stationary, the Headmaster announced that the champion for the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was Fleur Delacour. A number of cheers went up from the French contingent, as well as some cat-whistles from many of the older boys. Then the third piece of parchment went up, this one apparently written on a napkin, and everyone in the Hogwarts section waited with baited breath.

"And the champion for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is…Cedric Diggory!" Everyone dressed in Hogwarts robes applauded, the Hufflepuff section particularly boisterously. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He smiled broadly as Cedric joined the other two champions in being escorted down to a chamber connected to the Great Hall.

"Good on Cedric," Harry said with a nod. "Heard from Flitwick he was a right natural at Charms."

When the fourth piece of paper came out of the cup, though, the smile left Harry's face. When Dumbledore called his name, the young student was filled with a sudden sense of dread. His previous good cheer was quenched just as the flames from the Goblet of Fire were extinguished. Harry sat there momentarily, denying that fate had once again decided to meddle with his life.

"Harry POTTER!" Dumbledore called again, this time with a touch of anger to it.

There was a mixture of shock and displeasure on the faces of many as Harry made his way down from the stands. Many of those expressions were downright accusatory. Dumbledore gestured towards the room the other champions had gone to. Harry hesitated. Perhaps last year Harry would have meekly gone. But Harry looked at the angry school headmaster and the rest of the students in the hall and stopped. He turned to Dumbledore and matched the older wizard's gaze.

"Sir, I want to see the piece of paper you are holding." There was a short pause as Albus Dumbledore continued to hold the scrap of paper in his hand and everyone watched. "Professor, I said I want to see the paper. Not that I don't trust you, sir, but I did not put my name in. I want to see if it's even my handwriting." Harry said this loudly so that the entire hall could hear him.

Professor Dumbledore eyed Harry critically and handed him the scrap of paper. "You say you did not enter yourself into the competition?"

"No, sir," Harry said emphatically, "I didn't." Harry looked at the scrap of parchment. It really was his signature. But it was ripped from a larger piece of paper. It took the young wizard a few seconds to realize what had happened.

"So, Harry, is this your name written on this scrap of paper, or not?"

"Professor, this is my name, and I'm pretty sure I was the one who signed it. But I didn't put it in the Goblet of Fire. If I'm not mistaken, sir, this looks like my signature from a parchment I turned in for one of my school assignments." Harry turned to the other students. His eyes immediately homing in on Fred and George Weasley. "Did you guys manage to fool the Age Line and put my name in the cup?" he asked without rancor. "Cause if you did, it was a bloody brilliant prank, but really, but I would appreciate it if you told everyone so they don't think I put it in myself."

Fred and George realized Harry was serious. "No, Harry, it wasn't us. We never did manage," Fred began.

"To get past the Age Line. And if we were going to put someone's name in as a prank," George continued.

"It would have been Neville's," Fred finished.

Harry nodded. He believed them. They would certainly be capable of something like this, but they wouldn't lie about doing it if confronted by a friend. Harry stared hard at the rest of the students. "Okay, whoever put my name in the cup, fess up. Funny joke, but the joke's over." His loud demand was met with stony silence. A lot of people were looking uncomfortable, though. Moments ago they were looking accusingly at Harry, now he was returning the favor.

After several fruitless seconds, Harry turned back to Professor Dumbledore. "Well, nobody is admitting they put my name in, Professor, but I didn't do it and I'm not going to participate in the tournament."

Dumbledore stood there, momentarily frozen with a pensive look on his face. Then he turned to Harry with an apologetic expression, "I'm sorry, Harry. But even if you didn't put your name in, the Goblet of Fire has chosen you and if you don't compete then the curse of the cup will fall on you. You _must_ go down and join the other champions."

Harry looked at the school headmaster incredulously. "What? Sorry, sir, but I didn't put my name in, so I can't be expected to compete."

"I'm afraid you can, Harry. The Goblet of Fire is enchanted with some very strong magics. It is a binding contract. If you do not compete…"

"Then I'll destroy the Goblet of Fire," Harry responded, brandishing his wand and turning to the magical object. "That ought to take care of any magics on it," he said with a small snarl.

"Wait, Harry!" Dumbledore called, holding his hand up.

Harry stopped and looked to the school headmaster.

"You cannot destroy the Goblet of Fire so easily, but great harm could come to you from any attempt to do so. Please, Harry, come with me. We can discuss this wizard to wizard."

Harry nodded his acquiescence and put his wand away.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>Harry and Dumbledore sat across from each other in one of the many small private chambers off of the Great Hall. Professors alone had the means to access these private chambers, they were invaluable for dealing with students in a private manner without needing to travel all the way to their offices from the Great Hall.<p>

"You know I can destroy the Goblet of Fire," Harry stated simply.

"Yes, Harry, I have no doubt you would have obliterated the cup without difficulty. And destroying the cup would essentially nullify any contract or prevent any curse from being placed on you if it were to be destroyed before the tournament commences."

Harry considered Dumbledore's easy admission of such for a moment. "You wanted to preserve the cup for some reason. It wasn't about my safety. Okay, why then?" The Boy-Who-Lived asked inquisitively.

Albus Dumbledore sighed. "As you know, Harry, what the public believes to be true is very important to the stability of magical society. The Goblet of Fire is a magical artifact, one with reputedly great power. More importantly, it is one of the most famous forms of a magical contract. Tell me, Harry, what do you know about the use of contracts and vows in the Wizarding world?"

Harry had to pause and think about this. When Dumbledore asked him a question like this there was always something important to learn. "Well, I know that all the teachers at this school have a contract to teach. And the goblins use magical contracts in Gringotts."

"Yes, some very important examples of magical contracts. There are also vows and contracts employed in government, though these are easily interpreted in such a way that a person can fairly easily get around them. There are also marriage contracts, magical treaties, deeds to magical lands, and magically binding contracts between wizards and also between wizards and other magical beings." Dumbledore gave Harry a moment to grasp the scope of the issue. "What do you think would happen, Harry, if it were publicly shown that a Fourth Year student, no matter how gifted, could get out of a powerful binding contract by simply destroying the object that the magical contract was bound within?"

Harry nodded, considering. "Then anyone who didn't like their contract could just get out of it by destroying the piece of paper it was written on."

"Exactly, Harry."

Harry frowned, not liking the position this put him in. "Then I just won't participate. I'll wager all my galleons that a magical contract requires the person to willingly consent, or at least believe that they are bound by it for the magic to really take hold. I know I didn't put my name in the goblet, so there's no danger of any magic it might have affecting me."

"Very astute, Harry. Yes, I believe you are correct that you would have no difficulty throwing off any effects of the curse the Goblet of Fire would cast upon you for the reasons you stated. But do not think that the magic of curses and contracts are not real. They most certainly are, and I will let you in on one of the principles of magic I have discovered—the power of such vows uses the force of your own magic to enforce it. But as you do not believe you have entered into a contract, your magic would reject the curse and it would have virtually no power to cause you harm. Unfortunately, though, Harry, you doing so would be little better than if you were to actually destroy the Goblet of Fire.

"Have you heard of the Unbreakable Vow?" At Harry shaking his head Albus gave him a smile. "I'm glad to hear so, my boy, as you would most likely have been a victim of it if you had, growing up as you did. It's a very insidious bit of magic, requiring the focus of three magical beings to bind one of them into a promise that they cannot break without their own magic causing their immediate, and irrevocable death. This vow is rarely ever used, as more than one witch or wizard has unintentionally failed to fulfill their vow and lost their lives, sometimes merely for believing they failed to live up to it over nothing more than a technicality. This particular vow is extremely powerful because it uses the power of three separate parties to enact, making it impossible to subvert even for someone who understands the nature of magic and the importance of belief in the enchantment.

"There are other magical vows, ones that can be enacted by just two parties, ones undertaken by an individual wizard, commonly known as a Wizard Oath, and even a compulsion placed on another similar to a vow called a _geas_. While there are currently ways a person can be released from many such vows without incurring whatever penalty breaking the vow would incur, doing so requires a great deal of effort, almost always far greater in cost than it would take to actually simply fulfill the vow. I will not bore you by going into detail about the complexities involved in what would occur if the Wizarding World were to suddenly find such vows could be easily undone or the effects of an unfulfilled vow simply thrown off, but I trust you will believe me when I say that the consequences would be terrible." Dumbledore finished and looked to his young companion for understanding.

Harry found himself frowning again. But then a smile lit up his face. "I understand, sir. You can't have an underage wizard making light of wizard vows and contracts. Every wizard and their owl would take to trying to undo whatever they didn't like. But you could do it, Professor. Everyone knows you're the most powerful wizard in the world. They would accept that you could do such a thing but that they can't."

Dumbledore blinked. "You know, I had not even considered that. You raise a very good point." A minute passed while Dumbledore worked over the idea in his mind, but then he shook his head. "While your solution would be possible, especially if I made enough of a production out of it and made it clear how difficult and dangerous attempting to destroy the cup or break the curse on you would be, I'm afraid it would set a bad precedent. Still, it is an option to consider especially if things become…complicated. But let me make a suggestion to you first, Harry, before further considering your course of action."

Dumbledore paused for a second, then looked at Harry after pushing his spectacles down his nose a little. "I would like you to consider entering the tournament of your own free will. Once you explained that you had not been the one to enter yourself in the tournament, I realized that there had to be another person who intentionally entered you, knowing the danger it would put you in. That means that there is someone in this school who both wishes you harm and has the means to be able to do this."

"You mean, other than Snape?"

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore chuckled as he corrected Harry. "Yes, other than Severus, who I am sure would not be behind this."

Harry had to agree. Snape would never want him to achieve "eternal glory" as Albus had put it.

"So, you want me to enter the tournament to try and see who it is trying to get me killed?"

"Yes, Harry. It is a dangerous choice, but I believe you will be up to the challenge of the tournament. While it is true that this competition will be dangerous, I am sure that it will be even more dangerous not knowing who has done this to you and when they are likely to strike at you again. So, I am asking you to go along with this in order to uncover your attacker. Are you willing to do this, Harry?"

If there was one thing Harry Potter had no lack of, it was courage to face danger. If there was a second thing people would be certain he had in abundance, it was trust in Albus Dumbledore. Harry Potter nodded his head.

Life had, once again, dealt him lemons. He was going to make pumpkin juice out of it. After all, he was a wizard.


	11. Chapter 10: Unforgivable

**Chapter 10: Unforgivable**

"How'd you do it, Harry?" Ron asked with a scowl.

Harry Potter looked at his friend slightly perplexed. "Do what?"

"How did you manage to cheat and get your name in the Goblet of Fire?

Harry felt his cheeks flush with anger. "I didn't, Ron. Somebody else put my name in the cup. Just like I told everyone, and just like Dumbledore told everyone."

"I don't care that you were picked," Ron lied, "but the least you could have done was tell me about it. You know I wanted to enter!"

"Look, Ron, I didn't enter it. Just knock it off."

"Fine," Ron growled, turning over in his bed to ignore Harry for the rest of the night. "Some friend you are."

That was the beginning of Harry and Ron's feud.

Most of the school had decided that this was not Harry's fault. Initially, they had been suspicious of him, but Harry had been so vehement in not wanting to participate and so angry at whoever had put his name in that there weren't many who honestly believed the Boy-Who-Lived had entered himself. That didn't stop the Slytherins and Draco Malfoy from taunting Harry and passing out some juvenile pins and buttons meant to embarrass him. Quite a few of the Slytherins had taken to wearing the buttons around school, but that really hadn't bothered Harry.

Until he saw Ron wearing one.

Ron had grinned when he noticed that Harry had seen him wearing the insulting badge. _Support Cedric: Potter Stinks!_ Harry stalked away and the feud was taken to new heights.

No longer was Harry content to simply ignore Ron. After this insult he would push by him in the halls when the red-head refused to make way for him. In Charms and Defense class Harry would immediately master any spell being discussed, getting points for Gryffindor and garnering the applause and attention that he knew Ron was jealous of, while watching the boy flounder due to his jealousy and self-doubt.

Hermione did her best to keep the peace between the two friends. She refused to give Ron the cold shoulder, insisting she cared for both of her friends, even if one of them was being a bigger prat than the other. She even continued to help Ron on his homework, careful to divide her time evenly between studying with Harry and spending time with Ron. Of course, after Harry ended up with a higher Charms score on his essay than Hermione, the young witch became a bit snappish with Ron, blaming him for the time she didn't have to read more because she had to deal with the youngest Weasley boy.

Ron seethed beneath the combined effects of watching Harry constantly being praised and cheered while he struggled, having Hermione scold him for not doing his own work and causing her grades to slip, being the only one of Harry's supporters who still thought the Boy-Who-Lived had entered his own name, and worst of all, suspecting that he was the one who was wrong and that Harry was somehow not to blame. But then, it wasn't like Hermione's grades had _really_ suffered, Harry had only scored one mark higher than her. And wasn't it bloody obvious that Harry had entered himself and this innocent act was just that…an act? This had nothing to do with him being jealous of Harry!

Ron watched as Harry walked right past him once again, without trying to make up with him or apologizing for not entering him in the tournament too. Ron clenched his fists in frustration. He'd try and hex him right now if he wasn't certain Harry would blast him halfway to Hogsmeade in retaliation. What could a wizard like him do against a wizard who beat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when only one years old?

* * *

><p>.<p>

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><p>Defense Against the Dark Arts had taken a very <em>dark<em> turn with the introduction of Alastor Moody as this year's instructor. The ex-auror was intimidating in a way that none of the other teachers had been, and far less kind than Professor Lupin had been. Remus Lupin had left the post to help work on research on the _homorphous_ charm which Harry had shown to be so effective in curing lycanthropy. Thus far since Harry had managed to cure him, only a handful of powerful wizards had managed to successfully cure another werewolf and at significant magical cost. Remus wanted to help make it easier so that more of those afflicted with lycanthropy could be cured. Which was why Dumbledore had once again needed to recruit someone to teach the class and why the school was stuck with a paranoid sadist for a Defense teacher, and surprisingly it wasn't Severus Snape.

Moody was reputed to be an excellent trainer for aurors, at least he had been before he had gone partly insane from paranoia. And from the first couple lessons it was plain to see he was far more confident and competent than Quirrell or Lockhart had been. However, his methods weren't exactly what one would call child friendly. First thing he did when he got in the classroom on the first day was start throwing hexes around the room. And it hurt!

Students learned "constant vigilance" in the classroom. Mad-eye Moody might cast a hex at anyone at any moment. The first lesson they were learning was "DODGE!" and the second lesson they were learning was "DODGE!" They had begun to learn basic shielding spells, but they were still having to just get out of the way. Thus far, only Harry had managed to put up an effective shield in time when suddenly targeted by Moody, which had earned Gryffindor a number of house points.

Today, though, Professor Moody was teaching spells that he would not be casting on students. Or at least, they hoped. He was teaching the Unforgivable Curses.

After a preamble about students needing to be prepared to know what they were up against and explaining that using any of the curses on another person would land you in Azkaban prison for life, Moody demonstrated the curses one by one on an animal. He asked what the class knew about the curses. Eager to score some points in his personal feud with the suddenly studious Harry Potter, Ron Weasley was the first to raise his hand. When called upon, he mentioned the Imperius curse.

"Yes, your father would know all about that one, Weasley," he said as he brought out spider and placed it under the curse, forcing it to dance around the room. "Gave the Ministry all sorts of trouble years ago during the war."

Harry watched as Alastor Moody used the first of the Unforgivable curses on the spider. After forcing the spider to play around, jumping on people's heads, and then land right in front of him, Moody cast the second one. The Curciatus.

Neville had volunteered the name of that one, but the boy was visibly affected by the sight of the spider in excruciating pain. The arachnid was left quivering on the ground and Neville shook in sympathetic pain. Until Moody finished it off with the Killing Curse. The same one that had killed Harry's parents. The same curse that The Boy Who Lived But Whose Parents Hadn't saw in his nightmares.

This was disturbing in and of itself, but when Moody asked for a volunteer to attempt to throw off the Imperius curse, Harry went cold. He absolutely knew that he would be the one who would be called on. His intuition was immediately borne out.

"Mr. Potter! You're a powerful wizard, I hear. You've already shown, in this class no less, that you're strong enough to block a curse from a full grown adult wizard . Let's see how you handle this one, though. Come on up. Stand right there. Don't worry, I promise this won't hurt a bit." Seeing Harry's hesitation, Professor Moody added, "It's up to you, but this is a chance for you to understand what the curse feels like so that you can fight it. So, what do you say, Mr. Potter?"

Harry swallowed hard. Dumbledore trusted Moody. And it was true he needed to be prepared against curses like this. He nodded his head. At Harry's nod, the ex-auror looked at him and called out, "_Imperio_!"

Immediately, Harry felt a sense of euphoria and well-being. It was like all his care, all the burdens of his life had been taken away. He was floating on a cloud in which it didn't matter what decisions he made. He felt the command '_jump on the table_' and he did so. There was no need to question why. No need to think about consequences. He was aware of everything going on around him, but it didn't matter.

"Mr. Potter can reportedly cure a werewolf, destroy a dementor, and even defeat a Dark Lord. Yet here he is, completely under my control. Throwing off the Imperius Curse is not primarily a matter of magical power. Even the magically strongest among us can be caught in this curse by the weakest dark wizard if you are not mentally prepared for it. It's a matter of will. The will of the caster against the will of the victim."

Harry heard everything Moody was saying. It all floated through his mind. Somewhere, deep inside him, there was a piece of him that found this information important. The rest of him, however, did not care.

"With this curse, as long as the victim is under its power, you can make anyone do anything. I can make Mr. Potter do whatever I want, whether it is good or whether it is evil. I can make him tell me all his secrets. I can make him spy for me. I could even make him kill his own friends."

Suddenly that part of Harry that cared about what was being said and what was going on around him became alarmed. He was not in control of himself. Moody could make him do anything now. Anything. Unless his will was stronger. Did he believe himself stronger than the professor? Magically, he knew he was strong, but how about will power? How do you know if your will is strong or not?

"_Jump off the table_," came the verbal command along with an identical mental compulsion. A large part of him wanted to just go along with what was said. Going along with it was simple and easy. Painless.

But the part of him that cared had a problem with blindly obeying this command. That part knew itself to be the master of his own mind. The master of his own magic.

"No, sir," Harry replied. The euphoric feeling was suddenly gone. "I don't feel like it. I think I'll stay up here a few moments longer."

There was a shocked expression etched into Alastor Moody's face for a moment before he schooled his face to that of an approving look. Then the man turned to the rest of the class.

"Fifty points to Gryffindor," Moody pronounced, with a lick of his lips, "for _disobeying_ a professor. Potter here fought off the Imperius curse in under one minute. Very impressive. Each of you will get a turn now to see if you can do any better. Line up."

At the conclusion of the class, Moody hurried over to speak with Neville Longbottom. The boy had taken the demonstration of the Cruciatus hard. Harry, however, was deeply disturbed for a different reason. He decided to take a trip to see the headmaster.

* * *

><p>.<p>

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><p>"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile. "You must have something grave on your mind if you are up here to visit me instead of spending your free period out among your friends."<p>

Harry smiled at the professor's assessment. "Sorry to disturb you sir, but after my class with Professor Moody, I had some questions about the nature of magic that I think only you can help me with."

Dumbledore inclined his head, giving the Gryffindor student permission to continue. "Lemon drop?" he asked just as Harry began.

"No thank you, Professor," Harry said with a shake of his head. "Professor Moody gave us a class on the Unforgiveable Curses today, and afterwards I was left wondering why these curses are Unforgivable and not other spells."

"An important question, Harry, but one I believe Professor Moody could answer as well as I."

"Yes, sir, I understand he's my Defense professor, but…I think what we both know about magic is part of it, so I thought it best to come to you."

"I see. So, my boy, what is on your mind?"

"Well, sir, I understand that the Ministry classifies spells as 'dark' for different reasons. If the spell can only be used to harm others it's labeled dark. If it causes irreparable harm to either the caster or a sentient target it is classed as dark. I can understand that, sir, but Professor Moody said something about the Imperius curse that made me wonder why it was classed as an unforgivable."

"What was it that he said that caused you to have this doubt?"

"He said the caster could make the victim do either good _or_ evil," Harry said meaningfully. "So, I was thinking, why make this spell an Unforgivable? Even the Killing Curse can be used to kill someone who is evil for a good purpose. So, why is it considered 'unforgivable' while other spells are just considered dark and have a light penalty? The Cruciatus I can understand, and I can agree with the Killing Curse, but why the Imperius, sir?

"I mean, I know using dark curses can turn a wizard towards darkness. That's been covered in class quite thoroughly. But isn't that also a matter of intent and belief, sir? If I think I'm doing what is right when I cast the spell, even if the Ministry considers it dark, won't my belief in the rightness and goodness of my act prevent the magic from corrupting my soul?"

Dumbledore sucked in his breath. "I can see now why you decided to bring this question to me and not your Defense professor. I am grateful you came to me with this. You have asked a very deep question, Harry." After a moment of consideration, Dumbledore looked at Harry directly. "Your intuitions are correct Harry. It is the intent and belief of the caster that is the root cause of corruption of the caster of dark magic, not the spell itself. And that, Harry, is the answer to why the Unforgivables are so terribly illegal."

"With the Cruciatus curse and the Killing Curse, I can see it, but not the Imperius," Harry responded. "The Imperius doesn't hurt the person you are doing it to. Sure, you can make someone do bad things, but shouldn't whether the curse is illegal or not depend on what you make the person do under the curse? The curse itself doesn't hurt you at all. Actually, it felt quite pleasant."

Albus Dumbledore reacted with such shock and alacrity that it greatly surprised Harry. In a flash the wizened wizard was standing inches from Harry, looking into his eyes with a piercing gaze. "How do you know the feeling of the Imperius curse, Harry?" A moment later, without even waiting for Harry's response, Dumbledore stumbled back away from him and placed his right hand over his heart as if in pain.

"Professor Moody demonstrated it for us, to help us know how to fight it. He didn't use the other curses on students, of course. Only on—"

"A spider," the professor finished for him. "I'm sorry, Harry. I did something just then that was not polite. I looked into your mind as you thought. But I had to know for sure. This is quite shocking." After Dumbledore collected his thoughts for a second, he returned his gaze to Harry. "Harry, you must never be alone with Professor Moody. He cannot be trusted. I am afraid he may have gone Dark already, and if he has not, he is in danger of going completely over to the other side."

Harry blinked in surprise. Sure, Moody was gruff and aggressive, but he was using the spell to teach students to defend themselves, not to cast it on others. "Sir, I don't understand…"

"Harry, the Unforgivable Curses are unforgivable because to cast them successfully you must have an evil desire in your heart. It's not just the effect of the spell that is so horrible, but the actual casting of it is itself a dark act. There are many spells that can cause harm, many spells that can kill and be used for evil. But the specific nature of these three spells require ill intent to even be able to cast. You, Harry, for all your power and knowledge of the nature of magic, could cast the Killing Curse a hundred times and you wouldn't be able to kill a small cat. Because you are good.

"The Killing Curse is designed for one thing and one thing only: to end life. To cast the spell you must want the target dead. Not just to protect others. Not to prevent a greater evil. You must, deep in your heart, with all your soul, want your target to die. You must comprehend their life and their being and then want to end it. Do you understand that Harry? Even on an animal, to truly want it dead…"

Harry started to get it. The intent. The belief. It made it so much worse than just a green flash of light.

"You already understand why the Cruciatus is a dark spell. You must desire your target to suffer terrible agony. But what of the Imperius, Harry? What is it that powers this spell? It is a desire to take the free will of another and bend them to your will. To successfully cast the Imperius curse, you must genuinely desire to dominate another. It is impossible, Harry, to cast any of these spells without having gone so far towards the Darkness that you can no longer be in the Light. And for that reason, with that comprehension, they were made Unforgivable. Anyone who casts such spells on another witch or wizard has no place in magical society."

Harry Potter felt it then. How used he had been while under Moody's compulsion. The idea of a wizard wanting to bend him to his will turned his stomach. He felt a little frightened.

"Harry," Dumbledore said gravely, "I believe we have found the one who entered you into the tournament. Now we need to find out why. He will be under constant scrutiny. But you must not be alone with him or allow him to place you under a spell again."

Harry nodded. They would both be watching Alastor Moody from then on.


	12. Chapter 11: Wrath of the Seer

**Chapter 11: Wrath of the Seer**

Harry returned from the Dark Forest numb. Dragons. The first challenge of the bloody Tri-wizard tournament was dragons. He was literally going to have to battle a dragon!

He was of half a mind to go straight to Dumbledore and demand that he get him out of the contract by destroying the Goblet of Fire. Sure, there would be some Death Eater or traitor out there still plotting how to kill him, but that would be much better than facing a dragon which would already have a pretty good idea of how it would want to kill him. But something inside him refused to take that course of action. He would compete in this tournament and figure out a way to beat a dragon. He didn't know why, but that was what he'd do.

He really had to thank Hagrid for letting him in on this little secret. So, instead of heading back to Dumbledore to demand he release Harry from the contract, he went back over to Hagrid's hut to thank him for warning him. That was when Harry learned that Ron Weasley had already known about the dragons and had not shared that information with him. Ron's own brother was one of the dragon handlers.

After thanking Hagrid for the early warning, Harry marched off back to school to find his supposed best friend. When he saw Ron sitting there in the courtyard laughing and smirking with Seamus Finnigan, his rage was inflamed. He strode over to where Ron and the other Gryffindor by were sitting and gave him his best glare. "You're a right foul git!"

Inwardly Harry cringed at the weakness of his own insult. It was kind of hard to think up clever insults though when you felt torn up inside with anger and betrayal the way Harry was feeling. Under the circumstances, it was really the best he could do.

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Ron shot back, rising to his feet, clearly finding Harry's insult hurtful enough.

"Yeah, I know so," Harry retorted, glaring in Ron's eyes and getting in his face.

Ron was equally flustered. There he had been, just sitting with Seamus and laughing about the recent Quidditch results, when Harry Potter just came up to him and insulted him. And there he had tried to make the first move to reconciliation by telling Hermione that Seamus had told Dean that Parvarti had heard that Hagrid wanted to see him! Of all the ungrateful…this couldn't stand.

Ron started to pull his wand out. Threatening with a hex was how he was used to his family squabbling with each other. It's how all the older boys had bullied him over the years. How his mum would have acted if one of her children were acting out. Most of the time nobody actually ever cast anything anyway. Harmless, really. Just posturing. It was just the natural thing for him to do. "Why I ought to…"

A moment later, Ron was looking at an angry Harry Potter with his own wand drawn and leveled at him. Ron gulped.

"You ought to what, Ron?" Harry demanded.

Ron wisely, and carefully re-sheathed his wand. Ron was under no illusion that he could take Harry in a straight up fight. Not since the other boy had cured a werewolf and destroyed a bloody dementor had he considered himself an equal to Harry in terms of magic, if he ever really had thought so.

"That's what I thought," Harry couldn't help but say loud enough that everyone could hear. Harry turned on his heel, leaving a reddening Ron Weasley to stand there looking like a coward. But each step Harry took, he felt a deeper and deeper sinking feeling about this latest blow up with his first friend in the whole world. His desire to save his friendship with Ron warred with his adolescent need to appear strong. The desire for friendship was about to win, about to have Harry turn around and offer an apology for blowing up at Ron like that, when he heard a sound behind him. There were gasps, and then a familiar sounding ominous voice.

"**The boy who destroyed the Dark Lord shall fall,"** Harry heard the sound but couldn't actually believe what he was actually hearing. **"When the shadow of the dragon clouds the hallowed grounds then will flame burn the last of the Potter line and the Boy-Who-Lived be seen within the jaws of the beast." **And then there was a moment of silence, when nothing at all was said.

Harry turned slowly around to see an ashen white Ron Weasley standing there as if dumbstruck. Half of all the eyes were staring at Harry. The other half were looking at Ron in fear and surprise.

All thoughts of making up with Ron disappeared as Harry stared at the red head disbelievingly. Slowly the blood returned to Ron's face. The Weasley boy had been shocked at what he had done, and he could see the hurt on Harry's face. Harry was his best mate, and he had just made a prophecy about his death. What if it came true? But then he remembered Harry's wand pointing at him and the humiliation. Slowly, the terror of what he had done gave way to a stubborn determination. Harry may be the Boy-Who-Lived, but Ronald Weasley was a seer! Even if he was just making it all up.

* * *

><p>.<p>

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><p>"We're at a crossroads here, Harry," Dumbledore said to the distraught teen sitting across from him with his head in his hands. The boy had taken <em>two<em> lemon drops. This was clearly a very serious matter.

The entire school had heard of this new prophecy in a matter of a couple hours. The Daily Prophet had produced a special evening edition paper in order to publish the news. The gossip mongering was now constant, and no amount of point deducting was going to settle things down. As it stood, it seemed everyone in the castle firmly believed in the prophecy. Meaning it had a very high likelihood of coming to pass.

"Crossroads?" Harry asked. "What do you mean, professor?"

"We have a large number of courses of action available to us, Harry. And there are many courses of action that would be very inadvisable."

"Such as getting eaten by a dragon?"

"Yes, that would be most inadvisable," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "The upside to that particular plan would be that it would clearly cement Mr. Weasley's growing reputation as a seer. The downside…"

"Would be the chomping, bloody death, and digestion," Harry finished. "Yes, I'm pretty sure Plan A is not really what I want to go with here."

"Another option would be to denounce Mr. Weasley as a fraud. You would need to provide an explanation for the lightning bolt, possibly accuse your friend of performing a dark ritual to produce the result in order to build up his fame and reputation. But once you can prove that a single prediction he has made was fraudulent, the media will do the rest." Dumbledore watched Harry's expression carefully.

To the headmaster's joy, Harry's expression was one of horror, not cunning. Revenge was not in Harry's heart.

"That would ruin Ron!" Harry protested. "I mean, yeah, maybe he deserves it for making a prophecy like that about me, but I can't really do that to him. He'd be crushed."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied. "Most likely he would be sent to Azkaban for the crime. Fraudulent Seership is a very serious crime."

"Hang on, but isn't all prophecy fraudulent?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Oh, no my boy. If making up a prophecy was illegal then I could not in good conscience permit the teaching of Divinations at this school. No, what would make it illegal would be attempting to cause your own prophecy to come true through trickery."

"But Ron isn't guilty of that, though!"

"To a degree, he is, Harry. He is using the foreknowledge of the dragon as a part of the first challenge to establish his prophecy. A clever lawyer could get him off, but I am certain that your testimony used against him would sway the Ministry."

Harry shook his head. "I don't want to do that, Professor."

"Unfortunately, Harry, you may find that is the best option. You must balance the cost of one friend's reputation and freedom against your life and the fate of the entire Wizarding world." Dumbledore spoke quietly and firmly, keeping his eyes on Harry the whole time. "We must always balance our choices against the cost it will take, and ultimately decide on the course of action that causes the least harm and promotes the most good. At times, we must choose a lesser evil in order to promote the greater good."

"That's terrible! How can I make a choice like that? My own life or my friend's reputation and time in Azkaban?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Harry. At times those are exactly the sort of choices that must be made. Fortunately, however, those are not the only choices we have **in this situation**."

Harry looked up at the kindly headmaster and realized that Dumbledore had intentionally led him to believe he was faced with just those two choices in order to help him understand the burden of leadership. Now he understood a little part of what Albus Dumbledore had to do almost every day of his life. Weigh one choice against another. Sometimes one life against another.

"So, what else can we do?"

"One option would be for you not to compete. Either you can sacrifice using magic for a year and accept a minor curse to make it appear the curse is affecting you, or you I can destroy the Goblet of Fire before the first challenge. In either case, we would then claim that we believed taking these steps would prevent the prophecy from coming true, making it a mere vision rather than true prophecy. Ron's reputation would remain intact and you would remain alive. Neither of those choices are advisable, but they are options."

Harry shook his head. After his talk with Dumbledore he had realized the perils wizarding society would face if the people believed they could easily escape from contracts. And giving up his magic for a year was just asking for a dark wizard to come kill him. "What else?"

"The last option I can think of is to compete normally, but avoid getting burned and eaten—which, unfortunately, will be rather difficult enough without a prophecy, and even more so with one since the combined belief of all the witches and wizards present would work to make it happen."

Harry frowned. "But if I compete and don't die, won't Ron's reputation be ruined?"

"Well, in the first place, if you compete and do not become a meal for the dragon you can hardly be blamed. It will be entirely Mr. Weasley's fault for making the prediction in the first place and the burden will fall entirely on him. Secondly, as long as there is a dragon there, some people will interpret his claim as partially true. He will still have something of a following, but others will find reason to disbelieve in your friend's predictions."

Harry frowned. "That sounds like the best option."

"But it also happens to be the most dangerous—other than 'Plan A'. You must weigh the risk of that against the possible positive outcome."

Harry understood. It was a difficult decision.

"Usually, Harry, I would not hesitate to make the choice that I believed to be for the greater good. I am, I must say, right more often than I am wrong." The brief twinkle in the old wizards eyes was soon eclipsed by the resigned tone to his voice. "Unfortunately, I cannot be the one to decide things for you for all your life, not when you know as much as I. Your responsibility in this world is as great as mine. Perhaps in time it will be even greater."

"I know, Professor. Thank you for helping me think things through. I'll let you know if I need you to destroy the goblet for me or if I need any more help.

Albus Dumbledore nodded. Harry left to go back to his room to sleep. He had a lot of decisions to make, a lot of preparation to do. Not just his own fate rested on his choices.

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><p>.<p>

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> _I've received a complaint about the story that I believe is probably common to many readers. As such, I thought I would share my response to the criticism. I listen to criticism, but don't always agree with it._

_One reviewer commented that they disliked my following the Tri-Wizard tournament format (I can understand that, it is done so very often) and they thought Harry was dumb to go along with Dumbeldore's idea. That he knew that Dumbledore was a liar, and that the Headmaster was manipulative. Here is my reply to that part of the criticism:_

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><p><em>This is not a Manipulative!Dumbledore story. The way I'm portraying Dumbledore, he's doing his best to do the noble thing. He still has bouts of hubris, but so far the only really bad thing he has done in this story is leave Harry with the Dursleys knowing they were severely mistreating him. (Obliviating Hermione was done for her own good, as well as that of the wizarding world at large.) Keep in mind that when Harry came up with a solution that hadn't occurred to the headmaster, he was willing to do so, but asked Harry if he'd be willing to participate to catch the one trying to set him up. He is asking Harry to take a risk, but one meant to reduce the danger to Harry, not increase it (whether you agree with that assessment or not is another matter).<em>

_And as for Harry being dumb in this story, I really don't see that at all. Unlike in canon, Dumbledore has explained everything to him, at least everything except the horcruxes. Harry is coming to understand the responsibility Dumbledore has undertaken in preserving life and society, and he believes in it. It's trust, but it's not blind trust. A break in belief in certain institutions of magic would really have disastrous effects and Harry can see it. Which is why Harry's trust in Dumbledore is not misplaced here._

_I understand why Dumbledore has a bad reputation among fanfic writers. What Rowling wrote describes someone who is irresponsible and callous about the lives of others by his actions. But I don't think she intended him that way. I believe her early portrayal of him as kindly and wise was what she wanted to be his defining characteristic. The plot simply didn't bear that out, so the fanfic backlash against him is understandable._

_But in this story Dumbledore is disguising the truth about magic because otherwise the world would disintegrate into madness. He is both able to manipulate events through is knowledge, and at other times constrained not to act on what he knows because the consequences of doing so could be worse than what he would try to effect. He's trying, and doing not so bad a job._

_I don't expect everyone to like my choice of a non-evil or manipulative Dumbledore (except as is required by the secret he knows), but I hope this helps people understand where I'm coming from as an author and why he isn't getting bashed here._

_Thanks for reading, and feel free to let me know how you feel about this via review or PM._


	13. Chapter 12: Prophecy Fulfilled

**Chapter 12: Prophecy Fulfilled**

Ron Weasley was starting to hate himself.

He watched as the first contestant, Fleur Delcour of Beauxbotons Academy of Magic, faced off against her dragon. Ron had, of course, seen dragons before when he had visited Charlie. But then he had been rather far away, with the comfort of his parents. Now that he could see the dragons up close he realized just how truly massive they really were. He could bloody _feel_ their menace. Then he saw how easily someone could be killed. Fleur had skillfully distracted her dragon to retrieve her egg, but it had been a narrow thing, a snort of dragon fire burning her robe away. The beast's tail had left massive gashes in the ground. To say nothing of its teeth!

As menacing as the dragon had been and as nail biting the event, he felt even more nervous and agitated between the time that the French witch left the stadium and the time that the Bulgarian entered. As bad as the dragons were, it was much worse to be left to deal with the guilty pangs of his own conscience. It really didn't matter if Harry had entered himself or not. How could he have ever have wished his best friend killed by a dragon? Why had he chosen to make up a bloody prophecy like that about Harry Potter, the boy who had been his friend since their first train trip to Hogwarts?

Ron looked down at the magically spinning and morphing button on his chest. "Support Cedric; Potter Stinks!"

With a sick feeling he removed it from his robes and destroyed it with an _incendio_ spell.

He didn't even watch Viktor Krum facing his dragon. Ron rushed down the stands to the champions' tent. But he was barred at the entrance.

"Only champions and zer escorts are permitted in ze tent," came the gruff rebuff from the prefect, one of the students from Durmstrang, standing guard outside.

"I've got to speak to Harry," Ron demanded.

"Oh, vhy didn't you say so? Ov course you can go in…" the prefect began, "Vight after your name comes out ov ze Goblet ov Fire." The prefect move to stand between Ron and the tent entrance.

Ron frowned. Then he shouted, and started to try and push past the prefect. "Harry! Harry! Don't do it! Don't try and go against that dragon!"

Annoyed, the Durmstrang Seventh Year froze Ron in place with a deft wave of his wand and a gruffly spoken _immobulus_. Ron was then taken back, the prefect guiding Ron's immobilized body along with flicks of his wand, over to the Hogwarts stands where Professor McGonagall unfroze the boy. She nodded to the Durmstrang prefect, who left her student in her care.

"Mr. Weasley," she began, "you cannot wander around this stadium at will…"

Ron gulped and listened to the lecture he was getting. Krum's dragon had already been escorted off the grounds and the next dragon was brought in. It was a Hungarian Horntail, one of the most vicious of all the Great Dragons. Ron suddenly started shouting. They had announced Harry's name.

Ron was overcome with a terrifying fear. "Harry! Harry! You don't have to do this! Don't go out there, mate! Please!"

The past two days Ron had been the center of attention once more. He had gotten an interview with Rita Skeeter who had asked him how he felt about Harry's chances. Ron had pretended not to remember what he had said, claiming that he had been moved by the Inner Eye to speak what he had said. He said a few more things as well, including his certainty that if Harry competed in the event, his prediction would come true. The words he had said in that interview were coming back to haunt him now.

It was his worst fear. But it wouldn't really come true, right? He had just been making it up to get back at Harry for threatening him with his wand. It was just something he had thought up.

Like he had with Neville and the bolt of lightning.

All the anger and hurt he had felt over Harry being in the tournament melted away at the prospect of his friend's death. Now, faced with an enormous dragon about to eat his friend, according to his own prophecy, he no longer believed Harry had put his own name in. His jealousy over Harry Potter's fame and power felt so petty to him. But Ron could only look on futilely.

Harry was walking out to his doom. Ron watched as Harry entered the stadium looking calm. If Harry had heard Ron, the youngest Tri-Wizard champion didn't acknowledge him. Ron's heart started to beat faster.

What was Harry doing? He was standing up, challenging the dragon openly? And then Harry cast his first spell, and suddenly the entire arena was shrouded in dust. When the dust settled, there wasn't one, but a dozen Harry Potters standing there! They all ran together in a line, heading across the path of the mighty dragon. The Hungarian Horntail turned its gray-scaled head and breathed a gout of fire that burned through the entire line of Potters, from the first to the last.

"NO!" Ron heard himself screaming, along with audible cries from many of the crowd.

But then, impossibly, Ron watched as Harry shot up from the ground on his broom! The Boy-Who-Lived flew right across the dragon's nose causing it to turn its angry gaze his way. It flapped its wings, pulling at the heavy chains that bound it down to the stadium, rising up to the maximum length of the chain in pursuit. Harry dove and twisted, trying to keep away from the dragon's sharp teeth and wicked paws. It was a marvelous sight to see the daring boy outmaneuver the massive beast. He circled up higher and then back down, but Ron noticed that the boy was getting further and further away from the egg he was supposed to be trying to capture. And then Ron watched as Harry flew back by, aiming to go straight past the dragon and towards the eggs. It was the most amazingly daring and exciting thing Ron had ever seen!

Until the dragon turned its head and snapped its jaws shut around Harry Potter.

Ron screamed again, his eyes burning with tears. It was all his fault, because of his prophecy! He had killed The Boy Who Lived! He had killed his best mate! He had killed Harry.

THE END

of this chapter

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Next update...Soon!_

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><p>.<p> 


	14. Chapter 13: Fulfilling the Prophecy

_**Author's Note:** Special thanks to Stromsten for pointing out a very serious usage error I've been making since chapter 1._

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><p><strong>Chapter 13: Fulfilling the Prophecy<strong>

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><p><em>Days before the first challenge<em>

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><p>As soon as Harry had discovered that the challenge would involve dragons, he had made his way over to warn Cedric Diggory. The Hufflepuff had been very thankful, even further convinced that Harry had no interest in winning the Tri-Wizard Tournament and had not entered himself. He had been suspicious at first, but he quickly changed his mind after seeing how Harry had reacted to his inclusion. Cedric thanked Harry, but the younger wizard just shrugged his shoulders. Telling Cedric was the right thing to do. All the other champions knew what the challenge was going to be.<p>

The next thing Harry did was find Hermione. Even without the Marauder's map, which Moody had taken earlier in the year, he knew right where she was.

"Okay Hermione, what can you tell me about dragons?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. "You think Ron's prophecy is true?"

"Well, let's just say that I'd rather be prepared than barbecued."

"Perfectly understandable," Hermione answered with a hesitant smile. It was hard to be cheerful when her best friend was forced to face off against dragons. Without needing to consult Madame Pince, the school librarian, the young Gryffindor girl went straight to the section of books dealing with dragons and pulled out a few large tomes. "I noticed these titles when I was doing a bit of light reading on magical creatures. Frightfully interesting topic. I haven't had time to read through them all yet, but I did learn a few things about dragons that may be useful."

Harry learned quite a bit about dragons just from Hermione's quick summary. There were many kinds of dragons, but the ones most wizards (and Muggles for that matter) were familiar with were the "Great" dragons. The Great dragons were of a colossal size, yet their powerful wings enabled them to fly through the air at incredible speeds. Their scaly skin was thick and durable, strong enough to withstand all but the strongest of blasts and attacks while their teeth and claws were as sharp as goblin-wrought swords. And it only got worse from there.

Dragons were magical by nature and possessed cunning and intelligence at least equal to that of wizards. Fortunately, the last actual spell-casting dragons had been defeated by the wizard-knight, Saint George of Romania over 700 years before the founding of Hogwarts. However, all dragons are still innately very powerfully magical. This manifested in their ability to resist magical effects, their fiery magical breath (so powerful it could reach temperatures great enough to melt stone), in their incredible magical sight, as well as in the incredible magical aura they possessed.

Harry was shocked to discover that many dragons possessed powerful Legilimency, and as such meeting a dragon's gaze was often fatal. Not automatically as from a basilisk, but with a glance into your eyes they could freeze you in place before destroying you with their breath or claws, if they didn't tear your mind to pieces and leave you a blathering idiot. More powerful dragons had an aura of fear and despair that could render wizards and knights alike paralyzed with fright, as well as could suppress magical charms and enchantments. What was more, their powerful magical eyes were able to penetrate illusions and detect magical effects.

The more Harry read, the less he felt like competing in the tournament.

"Potter!" came a harsh voice from behind him.

Harry spun around, trying to hide his anxiety. It was Mad-eye Moody. Was he going to try and do something to him now? The professor motioned for Harry to join him. Harry stood, but didn't move from his table.

"Sir?" Harry asked, his hand moving to rest on Hermione's forearm, needing her for backup.

"A word with you, Mr. Potter," Moody repeated and again gestured that Harry should join him.

"Oh, of course, sir, but I'm here with Hermione. We can go ahead and discuss it right here, sir. I'm sure Hermione can be trusted." Unlike Alastor Moody. Harry had no intention of being alone with the former auror, the man Dumbledore suspected of being the one who had forced him to enter the Tri-Wizard tournament.

Moody was about to object when he saw the books that Harry and Hermione were studying. He nodded with approval. "I see you and Miss Granger are studying up on dragons. That's good. Can't be too prepared. So, what is your plan, Potter? How do you intend to get past it?"

Get past it? Harry had not been aware of the nature of the challenge before. He was thinking of how to kill or incapacitate the beast. But if all he had to do was get around it… Harry wondered if Moody was supposed to be telling him this.

"Sir, are you supposed to be…you know…helping me? Isn't that sort of against the rules?" At that, Hermione shot the one-eyed professor a disapproving look. A professor not following the rules? Scandalous!

Moody snorted, then went on a short rant about how the other champions were getting 'illegal' help from their headmasters. He nearly spat Karkaroff's name when he talked about Krum. "…and I can assure you that each of the other three are making a plan right now that plays to their strengths. So, Potter, what is it that you're good at?"

"Well, I'm getting okay at Charms, and my Defense is good for a Fourth Year," he began.

"Bah, Fourth Year spells won't cut it against a dragon, boy," he growled out, before his tongue flicked up to lick his lips. Then he took a quick swig on a metal flask. "What is it you're truly gifted at?" Moody pressed.

"Well, I can fly, sir, everyone says I'm good at flying," Harry replied.

"More than just 'good' from what I hear," Moody responded. "You're too young to overpower a dragon, Mr. Potter, but no reason you can't outfly it while _it will be chained down_."

"But sir, I'm not allowed to bring a broom…"

"You're allowed your wand, ain't ya?" he retorted.

And with that, Moody stumped away.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>On his way to see Dumbledore, Harry noticed Fleur Delacour and her entourage of French witches. He was about to walk past them when he felt a tug of his conscience. It wasn't fair that he had pieces of information that the others did not. Moody really should not have given him knowledge of the task ahead of time.<p>

"Um, Fleur," Harry called out to her nervously has he approached.

He saw the blond roll her eyes, and the other girls around her had a similar reaction. Harry frowned to himself. Perhaps she thought he had cheated his way—

And then it hit him. Harry suddenly found himself unable to think clearly. All he saw was the beautiful woman before him. Fleur…how her hair flowed…how the shape of her bosom—

The inner voice inside him, then one that cared about if he killed his friends or not, the one that cared if he did what was right or wrong, recognized the effect he was under. With a shake of his head, and a short stumble, Harry cleared his mind. It had been a lot like being under the Imperius, but not nearly as strong. He took a couple more steps forward, finding the effect increasing somewhat, but he maintained control of himself. Now that he could feel the effect of the compulsion, it wasn't so hard to control.

"What 'iz it, monsieur Potter?" Fleur asked him disdainfully. "Do you 'ave a love po'em to share with me, too?" she asked in a tone that showed just how little she would care if he had.

"Um, no," Harry answered. "Actually, I have something to tell you about the first challenge of the tournament. I got some information that I don't think is fair for just me to know."

At that proclamation, Fleur turned back to Harry in a little surprise. She had expected him to be tripping all over himself to try and ask her out. All the boys did. Still, she was not all that favorably inclined to the boy who had obviously cheated his way into the tournament and then lied about it. Perhaps this was a clever way to try and ingratiate himself?

"I know you know that the first challenge in the tournament will be dragons," he started. He saw her eyes widen in surprise of his knowledge of what she had learned. She had not realized he had seen her when he was out with Hagrid. That it was dragons was the news she had expected Harry to attempt to woo her with, but it was something else? "What you might not know is that we have to get past the dragons, not defeat them in a battle. And from what I heard, the dragons will be chained down. Just thought you ought to know."

Fleur and the girls with her looked at Harry in surprise. Madame Maxime had not shared that with her. This would change her approach.

"Well, um, good luck in the tournament," Harry offered lamely. "I'll be telling Cedric and Viktor later," and Harry started to walk away.

"Wait," Fleur called out to him. "Why did you tell me 'zis, Monsieur Potter?" Harry watched as she cocked her head to the side, her hair silky and radiant in the—Harry realized that he was being affected by the allure of her Veela heritage. It had suddenly more than doubled in strength.

"Well," Harry began, "I just thought it wouldn't be fair if I knew about this and nobody else did." He gave her a smile and started to walk away.

"So, you did not do 'zis for me?" She did not add, "because I'm beautiful," but it was what she meant.

Harry shook his head. "I'm just trying to do what's right."

And then he walked on, leaving the part-Veela champion staring after him. He didn't see the smile on her face as she watched him leave. Fleur Delacour no longer thought Harry Potter had entered himself into the tournament. Nor did she think he was like all the other boys who succumbed to her innate charms.

For Harry's part, he felt relieved to be away from the French champion. He didn't like the feeling of a compulsion. But he had a lot to think about because of that brief little encounter. He had felt big fluctuations in the power of the magic that radiated out from her. The closer he had gotten the stronger it was, it had increased dramatically when she was tossing her hair. Then, when he had started to walk away, he had felt the effects drop tremendously. Was a Veela's natural power affected by belief in the same way a wizard or witch's magical power was? Would that be different from a dragon?

Harry entered Dumbledore's office with those thoughts on his mind.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>Harry stepped out onto the field with an exhale of his breath. Time to face his dragon.<p>

Dumbledore had, of course, worked with him on some strategies for dealing with the dragon. Honestly, nothing said that Harry actually had to perform well on the task. He just had to make a show of trying. Everyone would be satisfied with that. The Headmaster suggested a strategy of staying as far away from the dragon as possible while tossing out a few token spells and making a run into the arena, yet still in the "safe" area the dragon could not actually reach, and then wait for time to run out.

The school headmaster had also gone over some of the plans he and Hermione had come up with. Dumbledore was quite impressed with the young witch's suggestions, though he did note the potential dangers each one placed Harry in. If the dragon shrug off his spells he would be in a vulnerable position. Still, they did have potential, and Albus Dumbledore knew that Harry was powerful enough to break through the dragon's resistance.

The Hogwarts Headmaster had a less favorable opinion of Moody's suggestion to try to out-fly the dragon. Not that Harry was incapable of pulling it off, it wasn't a completely horrible idea, but there were so many things that could go wrong. If someone were to hex his broom at just the wrong moment…there were just too many variables and dangers.

Of course, the main reason Harry was out there participating was not to try and win. It was so that Bill Weasley, his godfather, Remus, and a few other wizards could break into Alastor Moody's office and try to find some evidence of what was going on and if he had any confederates. Moody had warded his office quite thoroughly, so much so that it would take a significant amount of time for anyone to break in. This challenge was a distraction that would surely keep Moody occupied.

But only Harry knew his second objective. And it wasn't to win the stupid challenge.

Idiot Ron. He should just let the git get what was coming to him. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, to let Ron suffer the consequences. Ron had been his best friend for so long. No, he had to make sure Ron didn't end up in Azkaban or ostracized as a fraud.

Harry had, of course, heard Ron yelling outside the Champions' Tent. At first he had thought Ron was going to insult him. But then the redhead had implored him not to face the dragon. Harry knew he should still be furious with Ron, and he was, but it really felt good that his friend had come to beg him not to go through with facing the dragon.

"Harry," a voice called from just behind him. It was Arthur Weasley, disillusioned so that nobody else would see him. "Dumbledore wanted me to let you know he can still stop this if you want. Bill and the others will probably finish up soon, and we can make a delay..."

"No, Mr. Weasley, I'll do it," Harry answered.

"Alright. In that case, Dumbledore said he was curious which plan you were going to use. If you don't mind telling."

Harry smiled to himself. There was only one plan that would really help Ron. "Tell the Headmaster that I'm going with 'Plan A'. He'll know which one I mean."

Then Harry strode forward. Time to face his dragon.

As he approached, he saw just how huge the creature was. Hungarian Horntail. According to his (and Hermione's) research, they were the most aggressive of the four dragons that were being used for the tournament, and especially vicious when protecting eggs, as this one was.

Just before he started to enter the area, a loud shouting voice carried over the rest of the crowd. It was Ron. ""Harry! Harry! You don't have to do this! Don't go out there, mate! Please!"

Harry scowled to himself. He could hear the sincere fear and concern in Ron's voice. And that was exactly why he couldn't just abandon the challenge. That's what mates do for each other. Face bloody murderous dragons.

But the sound of Ron's cries, the fear in them, was a symptom of the greater fear and expectation of the crowd. Nearly everyone present was certain that Harry was going to fail this task. Most were pretty sure he was going to be eaten. And as Harry walked forward, he could feel the oppressive despairing aura of the dragon itself. The dragon was certain of the outcome as well.

So was Harry. But he couldn't have the dragon chomping on him just yet. He needed to turn the feeling in the stadium into something less sure to get him eaten prematurely, before he could fulfill the rest of Ron's prediction.

Which was why he strode forward, careful to mark the range of the dragon's furthest possible attack and stopped comfortably outside of that. Everyone in the stadium thought he was bonkers for doing so, but Harry had no doubts that Hermione had gotten the distance right. Each step had taken him deeper into the dragon's aura of fear. But Harry showed none.

"All of you think I have come here to die," Harry shouted defiantly. "You believe this beast is too strong for a little Fourth Year." The dragon roared mightily, but Harry still stood there, making himself heard by those in the nearest seats. "But I think you're all forgetting something very important," he paused. "I'm HARRY POTTER! I am the one who destroyed Voldemort. I'm the one who destroyed dementors! I didn't ask for this," he said, letting that hang for a second, "but I will show you that I am not afraid this challenge, this dragon, or fate itself!"

And then he drew his wand.

There. He could feel it. The collective breaths of crowd was held, waiting to see what he would do, and in their expectation, the certainty of his death and the prophecy was suspended. The very aura of the dragon before him lessened in intensity.

And then Harry pointed his wand. Not at the dragon, but at the ground in front of him.

"_CONFRINGO_!" he shouted, pouring his magic into the blasting curse.

The ground in front of him erupted in dirt and dust, the resulting explosion of earth showering the stadium in a choking cloud of debris that hung in the air for a while, obscuring everything. Even from the eyes of a dragon.

Harry used the time to quickly transfigure a number of rocks into simple stone golems that looked exactly like himself, down to the clothes he was wearing. It was by far the most difficult part of his plan.

"_Accio_ Shooting Star!" he called, summoning the prepared item from the stadium where Hermione had put it. And then Harry transfigured the earth in front of him into an embankment. The dust began to settle and Harry cast a complex series of charms on the golems he had created, bringing them to life and sending them out from the earth embankment to run off in front of the dragon. It was a good thing charms were a lot simpler than transfiguration.

"_Confundus_!" he incanted, aiming for the deadly eyes of the Hungarian Horntail. The dragon was powerful. Harry could feel the strength of its resistance. But it was already confused by the shower of earth and the appearance of a dozen copies of the tiny wizard. Harry felt his hex take hold, and the mighty eyes of the dragon would no longer see quite so clearly.

Now it was time for him to get going. "_Terra Defodio Maximus_!" Harry incanted just as the Hungarian Horntail roared its flaming breath, burning the entire line of Harry Potters he had sent out towards the dragon, down to the end.

When the last Potter golem in the line had burned, out came the Shooting Star, zipping up into the air. The figure on the broom turned and twisted, leading the incensed dragon further and further away from the eggs. And then, after a couple minutes of aerobatic daring, the broom shot down, right past the dragon. The Hungarian Horntail swiveled its head and chomped down on the broom and rider with a sickening crunch.

Screams and cries went up throughout the crowd. Ron's wails were the loudest of all.

And then Harry Potter leaned over to the scorer's table and showed them his golden egg. "So, what do you all think? Do I get a good score?"

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><p>.<p>

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><p>It took a few minutes for the crowd to realize that Harry had <em>not<em> actually died. When the dust settled and the Hungarian Horntail was led out of the stadium by the dragon handlers, the entire audience could see the newly-dug tunnel that led from the massive hole that Harry had created at the start of the encounter to the nest of eggs and then back to the judge's table. They could also make out a broken stone golem next to the splintered broom. The applause from the crowd was deafening.

When the final points were tallied, Harry received nearly a perfect score, even Karkaroff giving Harry 9 out of 10 marks. There was a cry from the press for Harry to say something. And so Harry made his way up to the stage. Just a few steps from the podium, the Boy-Who-Lived suddenly stumbled, falling flat on his face. There was a gasp. And then Harry climbed back to his feet, looking sheepish.

With a quick cast of _sonorous_, Harry addressed the crowd of reporters.

"I would like to thank all of you for your support and cheers. You don't know how much your faith and belief in me means," Harry began. They _really_ had no idea. "I have to thank all my professors at Hogwarts as well, without who I would never have been able to do what I did today," he said, giving a very respectful nod to the assembled professors.

Hermione quietly seethed. It was supposed to be 'whom' not 'who' and Harry had used a double negative! Honestly. She shook her head.

Oblivious to Hermione's frustration, Harry continued. "I'd also like to thank my dear friend, Hermione Granger," he said gesturing towards the witch who was now blushing red at the praise, all thoughts of grammar correction flying from her mind. "I doubt I could have come up with half as brilliant a plan as using the gouging spell to avoid the dragon." Harry gave her a smile and waited for the crowd to give her some much deserved applause for her work. Then Harry turned to one other person, someone not expecting to be singled out. "But most of all, I want to thank my best mate…Ron Weasley, a true seer."

Ron was completely shocked, staring up as Harry gestured for the redhead to come forward and join him. Ron very reluctantly joined Harry up on the podium, completely bewildered by this turn of events. There were still tear stains on his cheeks from where he had cried at what he had thought had been Harry's death.

"Thank you, Ron," Harry said, looking his friend in the eyes very intently. Then he turned back to the crowd. "Without Ron's prophecy, I would have been roasted by that dragon. Or eaten. Or both. But 'forewarned is forearmed'," Harry quoted. And then he repeated the prophecy: "_The boy who destroyed the Dark Lord shall fall. When the shadow of the dragon clouds the hallowed grounds then will flame burn the last of the Potter line and the Boy-Who-Lived be seen within the jaws of the beast_."

A murmur went up from the crowd.

Photos of a triumphant Harry holding up his egg were taken. Then it was Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing together. And then just Harry, standing with one hand on Ron's shoulder, a smile plastered on both of their faces.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>Ron was bewildered. Not that such was an uncommon situation, but today he was particularly confused by events. First, he had realized what a ridiculous prat he'd been being, but too late to do anything about it. Then he saw Harry die. Then, not be dead. And then, most puzzling of all, Harry had thanked him for making up a prophecy that had nearly killed his friend. What the hell?<p>

Ron hadn't seen Harry since the challenge and brief photo-shoot. With all the photos and the celebrating, they both were just completely busy. And then the cheer went up in the Gryffindor common room for the hero of the day, but Ron waited in their bedroom for his friend to appear. A minute later, Harry walked into the boys' dormitory. The dark haired boy strode across the room with a smile on his face.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, a wild smile on his face, too. It felt so good to have his best mate back!

**CRACK**!

Harry's fist connected with Ron's jaw and the redhead found himself on the dorm floor, stars going off in his head. Ow. Ron Weasley felt like he was about to sick up, but managed to crawl off the floor and brace himself on his bed.

At least now he wasn't bewildered.

"Don't you ever make a prophecy about me like that again, Ron," Harry said with a voice so coldly angry that the castle ghosts got a chill.

"Yeah, mate," Ron replied, spitting a bit of blood. At least he hadn't lost any teeth. "No worries on that. I never want to do that again. Are…are we mates again?" Ron looked over at his first, and best friend.

"Yeah, Ron, we're still mates," Harry said breaking a small smile. "But you know all those chocolate frogs you've gotten because you're the famous seer?" Ron listened questioningly, "You've got to give them all to me."

Ron paled. No…not the chocolate frogs! When would the suffering ever end?


	15. Chapter 14: The Poltergeist

**Chapter 14: The Poltergeist**

"Go Cedric!" Harry Potter shouted with a wide grin on his face. Ron and Hermione stood beside him whooping and cheering for the remaining Hogwarts Champion.

Not that any of the champions could hear them. In fact, they none of them could hear or see anything that was going on. The Second Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament was rather boring to watch. After the initial excitement of the three champions preparing for the ordeal by casting charms or using a slick partial self-transfiguration and then jumping into the lake, there was nothing to see. Just the lake surface.

For an hour.

So, the students of the respective schools took it upon themselves to cheer wildly for their champions in a cheering competition. Hogwarts students were easily the most boisterous, but it had seemed they were going to be outdone by the witty chants of the French, which were done in unison and with some choreography that the other two schools were sorely lacking. Sadly, when Fleur Delacour was pulled from the lake having disastrously failed, their spirits were dampened quite a bit and it became mostly a contest between Hogwarts and Durmstrang.

Harry grinned as Sirius Black, standing behind him, let out a magically enhanced wolf howl that drowned out all the other students combined, overpowering a rowdy chant that the Durmstang students had taken up. Harry and Ron immediately chimed in, and they were quickly joined by Fred and George Weasley, standing with the rest of the Weasley clan just to the trio's left. Most of the rest of the school quickly took it up as well.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation, the one person in the stands not joining in howling. "What does a wolf howl have to do with Cedric winning? Or Hogwarts? Or anything? Cedric is a Hufflepuff. We should be making Badger sounds or something."

"Come off of it Hermione," Ron said with a shake of his head. "It's not about Hufflepuff's animal, it's about being louder than the other schools!"

"Well, I get _that_," Hermione said with a huff. "But our noise should have some meaning to it, not just a bunch of...well, noise."

"We've been here for over forty minutes, Hermione! If you're so clever you think of a brilliant chant or a sound to make!" Ron retorted. "What would a badger sound like anyway?"

Harry grinned over at his two best friends. It was good to have them back, past grievances forgotten. Harry pulled out a Chocolate Frog Card box from his bag and watched as Ron sighed in resignation as Harry bit into the sweet confection. Then he pulled another out and looked over at Ron. "Want one?" he asked.

"No, mate," Ron replied with a forced smile. "You keep it."

Harry grinned, forcing the box into Ron's hands. "Honestly, I'm getting a bit tired of them. I'd rather you keep any more you get for yourself, if that's alright with you."

There were tears in Ron's eyes as he looked back over at his best friend. Most of his emtion had nothing to do with Chocolate Frog Cards. Most of it.

"You know, Hermione," Harry said, "it could be worse. We could be down there tied up beneath the lake in the Merfolk village as one of the 'treasures' the champions had to recover."

Ron nodded his head in agreement. That would definitely be far worse. "Good thing you dropped out after the First Task then, mate. That could have been me or Hermione down there."

"You should be thankful that Dumbledore managed to convince Mr. Crouch that you having participated in one task to the best of your ability was enough to satisfy the requirements of the magical contract," Hermione said to Harry, her voice taking on the bossy tone that she tended to use when talking about rules, regulations, studying, and exams.

"Well, you should be lucky Viktor Krum's interest moved on to someone else," Ron countered. "You should have seen him staring at you in the library before he hooked up with that Beauxbatons girl. He was like a predator, he was."

Hermione huffed. "Well, then I should thank you for being such a prat that I didn't have time to think of much else," she shot back.

Their argument was interrupted a short time later when Cedric Diggory emerged from the lake with a breathless Cho Chang in tow. The Hogwarts crowd erupted in even more massive cheers. A minute or two later, Viktor Krum emerged with one of the French school students to somewhat more subdued applause. There was a canon shot as time expired and Gabrielle Delacour was brought up to the surface by the Merfolk chief.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>After the announcement of the results, all the students were in high spirits. Ron said goodbye to his Dad, Mum, and Charlie (who was still visiting from Romania after having provided the dragon that had tried to eat Harry in the First Task) and Harry bid farewell to Sirius once more. Unfortunately, Hermione's parents being Muggles did not have the opportunity to observe the event, but she was in high enough spirits as the trio walked back together to the castle from the lake.<p>

There was a sudden burst of laughter up ahead and Harry watched as a number of students suddenly scattered to and fro, breaking the line of Hogwarts students heading back towards the castle gates as a small circle formed around some disturbance. Harry watched as a number of students' robes were suddenly lifted up, the witch or wizard so affected yelping or crying out in anger or embarrassment. Clearly this was the cause of all the commotion.

"Hoggy-warty students out to play on such a day!" a cruel sounding spectral voice cackled. "_Peevesy-is playing just like you, up with your robes, whoo-hoo! What will you do?_"

The transparent being of pure chaos and entropy flew around the students, continuing to pull up students' robes and cackling madly. Most of the students he victimized just turned and stormed off, while the others around them laughed or tried to help. A few younger students tried to swat him away, ineffectually of course. But one girl he had briefly tormented had a far more severe reaction. She screamed at him, her face turning red.

She was a Slytherin, clearly a 6th or 7th year, and the outrage on her face was obvious. Harry could see the look on Peeve's ghostly, impish visage and knew there would be more trouble. The Slytherin witch's fury delighted it. The poltergeist stopped targeting random students and went straight for her, lifting her robes up high enough that her undergarments could be seen by the entire school.

"_Oh, the ickle-witchy witch is mad!_" Peeves cried in glee, "_Come and look as she's been had! Off with her robes and undies, too! I'll show her off for all of you!_"

But before he could make good on his threat, the Slytherin girl had whipped her wand out and shouted a spell that Harry couldn't make out. A flash of dark energy flared out, passing through Peeves to disperse into the air. The poltergeist seemed, unaffected; however its translucence darkened as soon as the spell passed through it, and its visage changed from merely maniacally naughty to cruel viciousness.

"Now see here, Peeves," the voice of Sir Nicholas called out. "You must not treat students so! It is unworthy of a Hogwarts Ghost. Even you!"

Several of the apparitions had gathered, quite difficult to see in the daylight, but venturing out to attempt to diffuse the situation nonetheless. Three of the House Ghosts had arrived, along with a few more for good measure. Missing, though, was the Bloody Baron.

Peeves paid them no mind. All of his malevolent attention was focused on the student who had just attempted to curse him. He flew down to where she stood wand, in hand, and surrounded her with his semi-solid body. In moments, the girl was choking and writhing as she slowly ascended into the air. Her eyes were wide with fear. Her wand dropped to the ground as her arms flailed uselessly in the air.

"_Thinks to curse Peeves, you do?_" the poltergeist hissed angrily. "_Thinks you hurts me, do you?_" The girl rose even higher into the air, unable to speak as she continued to choke. "_Oh I will teach you! I will teach you!_" the maddened entity shrieked.

Harry had seen enough. He had his wand out and stepped forward. He had no idea how to banish a ghost, and even less idea on what to do with a poltergeist. But then, that hadn't stopped him before.

There was a sudden _**CRACK!**_ and everyone, including Peeves and Harry, turned to see the arrival of Dumbledore. Wearing a powder blue robe, his long white beard tied in neatly in front of his face, the Headmaster looked much as he always did. Well, except for the eyes which were hard and deadly. And the crackle of power that accompanied him. And the aura of magic that welled up around him in an almost suffocating cloud.

"**Peeves!**" Dumbledore commanded, "**You will release the student immediately.**"

The poltergeist shook for a moment, but did not release the Slytherin witch.

"**You will release her this instant, Peeves, or the consequences will be **_**severe**_**. Heed me, poltergeist!**" Dumbledore's command became even more insistent.

Peeves looked to the now towering wizard, then to the crowd of students, then back to the one he was choking. "BAH!" it cried out and the student convulsed, her face turning red.

Faster than Harry's eye could follow, Dumbledore's wand was in his hand, waving in a large arc as he called out, "_Disperdere t__entitatem!_" A jet of white light burst from his wand, engulfing both the Slytherin student and Peeves.

There was a sudden shriek before the Slytherin student fell to the ground, motionless.

Harry watched in shock as the air above the girl contorted and the form of Peeves suddenly burst apart. The transparent form first wavered and then what little cohesion the spirit possessed melted into nothing but a gray mist that was rapidly fading. It looked as if it were being blown by the wind, no longer the stable form of a poltergeist.

A few students immediately charged forwards to come to the aid of their fallen student.

"Hold still!" the Headmaster called out to them.

But it was too late. Before anyone could react, the gray mist flowed straight into one of the approaching students who fell to the ground beside the Slytherin, jerking spasmodically. After a moment, though, the Hufflepuff who had gone to check on their classmate stood up shakily.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore called out cautiously.

"_Never better_," the voice called back. The voice of Peeves. "_Always wanted to have a wand_," it called out from the body of the new possessed student, drawing the student's wand and shooting off sparks. "_Of playing here I've been so fond_," Peeves said, as the Hufflepuff's head lolled to the side. "_But now I think the fun is done. No more will I play in your hall…I think…I'm going…to kill you all_,"

The poltergeist finished with a mocking rhyme and a burst of sparks flew out from the wand towards Dumbledore. The Headmaster casually cancelled out the wild magic with a wand wave, but made no move towards the possessed student. Harry, his own wand already in hand, made a quick, silent cast of the _expelliarmus_ spell, flicking his wand towards the possessed student. The wand flew out of Peeve's surprised hands, straight to Harry.

"You don't deserve a wand, Peeves. You're a menace," Harry said with steel in his voice.

Peeve's pivoted towards Harry, the body of the Hufflepuff standing unnaturally, the poltergeist's eyes fixing on the Boy-Who-Lived with pure malice. In that moment, Dumbledore pushed his left hand forward, throwing the body of the Hufflepuff student backwards away from him. Peeve's however, had remained in place, now once again in a wispy, misty form that floated around somewhat aimlessly, with only a faint resemblance to the impish appearance of Peeves.

Something about it seemed very familiar to Harry.

"Stay back, all of you," the Headmaster warned. Then with a flick of his wand, he summoned the Slytherin student to his side, where she continued to lay unconscious.

After a few tense moments, the crowd heard a wailing sound coming from what was left of the poltergeist. As the seconds passed, the wail became a low moan, and then an echo, the wispy smoke of his form completely dispersing in the air. Only after another minute did the Headmaster release a breath.

"All of you, please quickly return to the castle. You are now quite safe," Dumbledore pronounced. The Headmaster gestured to the Hufflepuff and the Slytherin students who Peeves had victimized as the Slytherin and Hufflepuff Heads of House arrived on the scene. "Pomona, Severus, please see to it that your students are taken to the Infirmary. Inform Poppy that they have been the victims of possession, and that Miss Thornton was partially asphyxiated."

Dumbledore looked around, noticing the various ghosts looking incredibly distraught over what had just transpired. "I would like to thank the Hogwarts Spirits for their attempts to help in this matter," Dumbledore gave them a respectful nod. "Despite what you have just seen, your position in Hogwarts is much appreciated by all of us. So long as you remain loyal to Hogwarts and never cause harm to any student, staff, or guest, you will always be welcome here. Please, I ask you to return to the castle."

With that, Dumbledore strode away. After a moment, the ghosts followed him back to Hogwarts.

Harry watched it all, feeling just a bit of shock at the turn of events. His eyes lingered just a bit longer on the space in the air where Peeves had just disappeared.


	16. Chapter 15: The Meeting

**Chapter 15: The Meeting**

The front page of the Daily Prophet was covered with a massive moving photo of Albus Dumbledore standing in all his glory, wand out and expression stern. There was no trace of the kindly, grandfatherly eccentric that the aged wizard projected the majority of the time. One of the headlines read, "Chief Warlock Destroys Poltergeist, Protects Students" and the article described in uncanny detail how the Headmaster had dealt with Peeves and handled the situation. The Headmaster had uncharacteristically been missing from the Great Hall during breakfast the past couple days.

"Can you believe this garbage?" Harry said with a scowl looking at an opinion piece in the editorial section. At an inquisitive glance from Hermione, Harry read a quote from the article which not so subtly hinted that Dumbledore had a hidden agenda in teaching at Hogwarts. "I mean, it's totally ridiculous! And this part where it says it's dangerous for students to be around a wizard as violent and powerful as Dumbledore, what a load of hippogriff dung!"

"At least it isn't you this time, Harry," Ron said between mouthfuls.

With a grimace, Harry turned to page two of the paper for Ron, which featured a rather large photo of him brandishing his wand his wand with Dumbledore in the background. "Well, nobody is blaming me for anything, but that article on Dumbledore makes it out like the Headmaster is raising me to be some kind of weapon or something."

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "Which is all perfectly silly. Dumbledore is not the head of some secret organization out to control the wizarding world. And Harry is certainly not his secret weapon!"

There was a loud squawk, followed by the appearance of Hedwig alighting on the table with a large, ornate envelope tied to its left foot. Harry untied the envelope with a befuddled expression on his face. He hadn't remembered sending Hedwig out to deliver anything to anyone. How then had his faithful snowy owl come by this delivery for him? When the envelope came free, Ron gave out an audible gasp.

"What is it, Ron?" Harry asked.

"That's an official letter from the International Confederation of Wizards, that's what that is!"

Harry pursed his lips as he opened the letter up. Sure enough, the letter was from the ICW, signed at the bottom by the Supreme Mugwump himself, Albus Dumbledore.

"Well, Harry, what does it say?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing much. Just an invitation to a meeting tonight. Apparently, this time Hogwarts is the venue for the meeting and the committee is interested in hearing about the incident with curing Remus and then with those dementors."

"Blimey, Harry!" Ron said, picking up on one of Hagrid's speech habits. "Do you know how rare it is to get an invitation to an ICW meeting? There's like only a half dozen or so people in all of Britain who ever get to go!" An evil gleam appeared in Ron's eyes as he took the letter from Harry. "Come on, Harry, let's go rub this in Malfoy's face! He'll be mortified that you got an invitation and his daddy never has!"

With a frown, Harry summoned the letter back to his own hands and put it away. "I don't think that's a good idea, Ron." Hermione gave Harry a look of approval as the young wizard continued. "This is supposed to be a private meeting, we shouldn't spread it around that I'm going." Seeing Ron's unconvinced expression, Harry added, "Besides, that's something that a Slytherin ponce would do. We don't want to be like Malfoy."

Ron frowned but nodded. "I guess you're right, Harry. You're no fun, but you're right."

* * *

><p><em>Weasley Seer<em>

* * *

><p>"Welcome to the International Confederation of Wizards," Ablus Dumbledore said, spreading his arms open in welcome. Harry Potter sat in a seat directly next to Dumbledore's head position, taking in the mostly unfamiliar witches and wizards seated around the table. Other than Dumbledore, the only other person Harry recognized was Professor Trelawney. "Tell me, Harry, do you know the purpose of the ICW?"<p>

Harry nodded his head. "Well," Harry began, "according to what I've read in class, the ICW was created to foster cooperation between nations, mediate international conflicts, regulate international commerce and transportation, and to act as a judiciary for issues involving international treaties and violations of international statutes, such as the International Statue of Secrecy." He smiled over at the Headmaster, pleased that his studying up on the subject had paid off and would reflect well on the school.

"Very good Harry. That is 100% incorrect. 10 points to Gryffindor."

Harry boggled, trying to make sense of the conflicting signals he was getting. Praise yet being told he was wrong. A smile and a twinkle from the Headmaster but chuckles from the other ICW members. A reward for failure. Not to mention that he was sure what he had recited was what all the books on the subject said it was.

"Confused, Harry?" Dumbledore asked with a smile. "Good. That is exactly how we want it. The International Confederation of Wizards publicly tells the witches and wizards of the world that our purpose is exactly what you so concisely described. When in fact, it is something far, far more important.

"In truth, the ICW is no more and no less than a secret organization that controls the wizarding world from the shadows," Albus Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers together and looking at Harry expectantly. "The International Confederation of Wizards has inherited the sacred duty of protecting magical beings from themselves, a duty passed down from generation to generation since the time of Merlin."

Harry waited for the punch line for a few seconds, before slowly turning to look at the other members one by one. Not one of them looked like they were joking. "You're serious," Harry said, his surprise evident. "You mean, the Daily Prophet was actually right about you being the leader of a secret organization out to control the world?"

Dumbledore chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes. "Ironically, yes."

"You really are the leader of a secret organization?" he repeated.

"Two, to be perfectly honest," Dumbledore answered. "But it isn't quite what the paper makes it out to be. While it is true that the ICW is involved in controlling the world, it is not for personal gain—at least not beyond the advantage of living in a world that hasn't sunken into madness and utter chaos. Rather than regulating trade or commerce, Harry, the ICW's primary role is to control the spread of knowledge of the true nature of magic."

Harry was dumbfounded. "There's an entire organization out there just for that?"

"Indeed. It's quite a responsibility. Once you reach the age of majority, you will be invited to join the ICW as a full member. For now, you are here as a provisional member."

"And what about my being some kind of secret weapon?"

Dumbledore gave the Boy-Who-Lived a pointed look, then he gazed over at Sybill Trelawney, then back to Harry. "What do you think?"

"The prophecy, right," Harry said. "Never mind, then. Just checking."

Dumbledore turned his head from Harry to a white-haired wizard seated on the other side of him. "So then, shall we get to business?"

The man nodded before standing up. "Present: Albus Percival Brian Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Mugwump of the London Branch of the ICW; Xenophilius Lovegood, Scribe of London Branch of the ICW," he said, indicating himself. The wizard, Xenophilius Lovegood, continued around the table taking note of each attendee and stating their membership status. Of the twelve in attendance, most were from Great Britain, with the Deputy Headmistress of Beauxbatons and an instructor from Durmstrang being the exceptions, apparently attending out of convenience during the Tri-wizard Tournament. "And Harry James Potter, Fourth Year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, attending as a provisional member under the sponsorship of the Supreme Mugwump."

Xenophilius Lovegood then passed around a parchment, which each of the members briefly perused. Harry had barely begun to read the document when the ICW scribe spoke again. "It is moved that the members accept the following as the official minutes of this meeting. Any call for amendments?"

Harry looked at his document, then back at the assembled witches and wizards in confusion. The meeting had not even started yet, and Harry could see just from the list of attending wizards that the minutes had errors. "You have a question, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, noting the boy's confusion.

"Well, um, yes sir. If I understand the concept of 'minutes' correctly, shouldn't they be written during the meeting? And I don't see a Master Parker Po-Fei Huang anywhere at this table. Unless he's invisible or something…"

Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Ah, you were under the impression that these minutes are supposed to reflect what actually transpires at this meeting."

"They're not?"

"Most certainly not. These are the _official_ transcripts of this meeting. The actual content of this meeting will be protected by a _socius secretum_ charm, accessible only by members of the ICW."

With that explained, the meeting began in earnest, and Harry quickly found himself in the unfamiliar situation of being both fascinated and bored at the same time. On the one hand, he was getting an inside view of exactly how the ICW controlled wizard thought, and how they influenced the British government with subtle manipulations. On the other hand, the amount of minutiae discussed and the degree of technicality were enough to blunt any enthusiasm Harry might have felt about such insights. As topics cropped up, Harry endeavored to maintain his attention, but inevitably he found his mind wandering in and out of the discussion.

"…shows a 1.2% increase in the reported belief in the existence of 'nargles' among non-readers, as compared to a net .3% drop in the reported belief in Wendersnaven…"

Harry tried to keep up with the discussion of creating belief in imaginary creatures, but simply did not understand half of what was being said and his focus faded back out. He decided he would be subscribing to _the Quibbler_, though, for kicks if nothing else.

"…when considering the net _Prewett Effect_, this revision to The Standard Book of Spells Grade 3 will be negligible. Allowing an adjustment of this nature would…"

In a general sense, Harry was very much intrigued in the entire concept of an Educational Oversight Department within the Ministry of Magic, but when it came right down to the actual details he couldn't care less. There was apparently some way of measuring the degree to which one arbitrary way of explaining magic was more effective in gaining results than another, presupposing the ignorance of the subject of the real nature of magic, but all the discussion of testing methods almost put Harry to sleep.

"…poses far too great a risk of exposure within the Wizengamot. We need a more subtle method of introducing such restrictions without…"

At this point, Harry caught himself almost snoring and tried a little harder to pay attention.

"…which brings us to the matter of reclassification of poltergeists."

Now Harry was wide awake. The memory of what happened with Peeves was still fresh in his mind and realizing that this would have international repercussions allowed him to listen raptly as the different members discussed the impact of Dumbledore's destruction of Peeves. Here, Harry found he was well enough informed to actually follow the discussion.

A tall, dark haired wizard wearing somewhat stylish deep purple robes was standing and speaking with conviction. Harry didn't recognize him, but the way the man spoke Harry felt he was a person he should respect. "…to have this occur right on the heels of Mr. Potter's destruction of a number of dementors, well, this will be quite a blow to the concept of non-beings as a limiting factor on the power of magic. It sets a very bad precedent, regardless of the fact that it was the Chief Warlock and the Boy-Who-Lived respectively who accomplished these feats."

"I quite agree, Maximus," Dumbledore said with a nod. "Despite the recent events it is critical that we maintain the classification of 'non-beings' and the quality of their indestructibility in the mind of the general populace. Seeing as how dementors and a poltergeist, two of the most well-known examples of non-beings have recently been quite publicly destroyed, this will be easier said than done."

Xenophilius Lovegood, the wizard serving as the scribe for the meeting, lifted his hand and began speaking. "As reported in previous meetings, response to the heliopath rumor has been exceptionally positive. Perhaps a leak from the Unspeakables might cement belief in their existence? They could easily be classified as non-beings…"

There were murmurs around the room at this suggestion, too many fractured conversations for Harry to follow at once. The French Deputy Headmistress, Madame Sandrine Mercier stood and shook her head, "Zat maybe fine for ze English, but I don' zink ze French weel believe een zis. Your Quibb-_lere_ iz not so populere in Paris, Monsieur Lovegood, as it iz een England."

A quick furor ensued, Xenophilius appearing genuinely affronted. All present began speaking heatedly, the tone of the meeting turning slightly hostile.

Dumbledore stood and raised his hands, quickly getting everyone's attention. "Ladies, Gentleman, there is no need to argue. Xeno's suggestion is something to take into consideration, thinking through all the ramifications, but Madame Mercier is correct that such a move will not be enough." At that there was a discontented quiet before the Supreme Mugwump continued. "I did come to this meeting with an idea in mind which I believe will settle this issue. If you will allow me to present my suggestion?

"Rather than adjust the definition of non-being or removing poltergeists from that category of magical being, I believe it would be more expeditious to reclassify just a single individual. Rather than saying that poltergeists can be destroyed by wizard magic, it would be better to say that I was able to exorcise Peeves as I would a ghost because Peeves was not, in fact, a poltergeist."

"But Albus!" a sandy haired witch protested, "Everyone knows that Peeves was not a ghost! We can't hope to make a revision like that with so many witches and wizards alive who went to school with that...that haunt. And it's in all the current editions of the history books. We can't get away with it."

"On the contrary, I think it is because so many of those involved with the incident were familiar with Peeves that it will be easy to convince them." Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles, all eyes were on him. Dumbledore's eyes, however, were on Harry. "Tell me, Harry, what did you learn in Defense Against the Dark Arts about the difference between ghosts and poltergeists."

With a frown, Harry tried to recall what he had learned back in Third Year. "Well, ghosts and poltergeists are both immaterial—you can't really touch them." Harry internally winced, realizing that of course everyone already knew what immaterial meant. Talking down to the ICW? Smooth. Dumbledore gave him an encouraging nod, though, and he continued. "The biggest difference, I guess, is that ghosts are the spirits of people who were dead, while a poltergeist was never a person. According to our textbook, a poltergeist is made up of pure chaos. A ghost can be forced out of a place or even completely out of the realm of the living through an exorcism, while a poltergeist cannot be."

Dumbledore nodded. "Excellent, Harry. That is what is included in the current school curriculum at Hogwarts, and I do believe internationally." The foreign ICW members each gave a nod. "Poltergeists are noted most of all for being forces of chaos: creating clanking noises, causing things to break, disruptively throwing objects around a room, and even replaying particularly destructive events that occurred as a phatasmic projection. Certainly Peeves displayed all of these traits. However, I had always felt that Peeves was more than just a collection of chaos. No, I knew a spirit who could touch...who could feel..."

"He was a person!" Harry interjected suddenly. "You think Peeves was a person before!"

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "If there is anything that can be said about Peeves, it was that he had a very colorful personality. But, more than that, he could think and reason. It is clear that Peeves was a force of chaos, but it is my belief that at some point in time he was a living wizard."

"Peeves always did look like a person," Harry nodded. "He was even more physically solid than the other Hogwarts ghosts. And Fred and George even got him to help in their pranks."

There was some muttering around the table. There were quite a few nods of approval, but still some dissent. It was Professor Trelawney who voiced the question aloud. "But Albus, it is public knowledge that previous headmasters of the school had attempted to expel Peeves and even exorcise him, but failed. How do we account for that?"

Dumbledore was prepared for that question. "By creating an entirely new subcategory of spirit. The reason why previous attempts to expel Peeves failed was that they were attempting to use spells intended to remove a standard ghost. When I cast the spell to exorcise him, I did so with the understanding that Peeves was neither ghost nor a true poltergeist, but a exceedingly rare mix of both. We can term him an entropic spirit: a subtype of ghost which has chaotic elements similar to that of a poltergeist. The very elements that make Peeves the most famous of poltergeists will also be used to reclassify him as something else entirely, leaving poltergeists as non-beings which cannot be slain or destroyed."

The motion passed easily, as did the remainder of the meeting. Harry shook hands with each of the members before they left. In the end, only he, the Headmaster, and Professor Trelawney were left. The Divinations teacher bid her goodbye before assuming her batty persona and wandering back out with a wink towards the pair.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said as the aged wizard was about to step from the room as well. "I have a question about what happened to Peeves after you—you know."

"Of course, Harry," the professor replied, "what would you like to know?"

"Well, sir," Harry scratched his head as he tried to figure out how to begin. "I'm curious about how Peeves lost his shape and turned into that smoky haze. What was that?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose above his spectacles. "A very astute question, Harry. Once I cast the spell to exorcise the spirit, Peeves was no longer a proper ghost or specter. The term for what he became is a 'wraith'—a disembodied spirit that has lost the cohesion that allows it to manifest as a ghost. They are very rarely seen, only upon the exorcism of a ghost or the recent destruction of a particularly powerful being that is resisting the pull of death."

"And when the misty form disappeared? What happened to Peeves?"

"Were Peeves a mere collection of chaotic energies, I would think he had been utterly destroyed, just as an image in the clouds is destroyed once the cloud that formed it is dispersed in the wind," the Headmaster said with a philosophical air. "But as I am convinced that Peeves truly was a spirit with a soul, I can say with some confidence that he passed on through death into the next life. Why do you ask, Harry?"

Harry was silent for a moment. "Well, sir," he paused, trying to think the matter through, "I believe I have seen a wraith before. Back in my first year. After Quirrell was destroyed, the spirit of Voldemort took on a misty form very much like what Peeves became. I think he tried to possess me the way Peeves possessed that boy from Hufflepuff, but he couldn't." Harry paused again, this time with a frown. "But with Voldemort, it was different than from what happened with Peeves. When you exorcised Peeves, he immediately started to dissipate and completely disappeared after a few minutes. Voldemort, though, didn't seem to be getting weaker."

Dumbledore made no response, standing near the door with his eyes fixed on Harry.

"What does this mean, sir?" Harry asked after a moment.

"I'm afraid, Harry," Dumbledore began, "that it means before we can be truly rid of Voldemort, that he must first be resurrected."


	17. Chapter 16: The Dark Lord's Return

**Chapter 16: The Dark Lord's Return**

It happened in just a moment. Alastor Moody roughly grabbed the black haired boy as he walked by the teacher's doorway and drug him into his office, the student crying out loudly for help. With a gesture from the staff Moody carried, a barrier of pulsing blue energy sprung into being around the doorway. Those students who happened to be in the corridor at that exact moment backed away in a panic.

"Stand aside, you fools!" snapped an irate Severus Snape, who just happened to have been entering the corridor when it happened, the teacher roughly pushing past those students two slow to get out of his way. With a flourish of his wand, the dark robed wizard sent several bursts of magic towards the barrier. Despite the Potions Master's apparent best attempts, however, the barrier of magic held.

Cursing audibly, Severus Snape watched through the magical wall separating them as inside the professor's office, the figure of Professor Moody grabbed a large crystalline cup, the trophy for the winner of the Tri-wizard Tournament. The crippled former auror and his victim disappeared together in a flash characteristic of port-key travel. That should have been impossible from within Hogwarts without the permission of the Headmaster of the school.

Severus quickly waved his wand, incanting the phrase, "_Expecto patronum_." A silver-white doe formed out of the mist and waited silently. "Go to the Headmaster and inform him that Alastor Moody has abducted Harry Potter and has escaped the school grounds via portkey." With a nod of its head in acknowledgment, the majestic creature turned and bounded away, disappearing through the walls of the castle, bearing Snape's message.

Severus stood a moment longer, looking at the doorway where the boy and the one who had taken him had just been, before muttering to himself. "I told the old fool to kick Moody out. But as usual, he didn't listen to me, and now…"

With his fists clenched, Snape stalked away from the scene.

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><p>.<p>

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><p>In a graveyard far from Hogwarts castle, a ritual was about to begin.<p>

"Bind him," commanded a raspy voice.

Peter Pettigrew, holding the grotesquely deformed infant body inhabited by the Dark Lord moved to obey, but before he could take more than a couple steps, the newly arrived Alastor Moody quickly tossed the boy with the lightning scar against a large, gnarled tree, where skeletal ribs quickly extended to trap the boy.

"There, master, I have delivered the boy to you," Moody said, bowing low.

"Very good, Barty, very good," Voldemort praised, while Pettigrew seethed at being upstaged in performing the task. "But first, return to your own form, my faithful servant. I wish you to see my triumph with your own eyes."

"Yes master," Alastor said, before pulling a silver flask from his jacket and gulping down a mouthful of its contents. Within moments, the visage of the grizzled auror was replaced by that of a youthful face whose eyes shone with fanatical zealotry. With the transformation complete, Barty Crouch Jr. bowed low before the infant form of the Dark Lord. "Thank you master."

"Now, Wormtail, begin the ritual."

The young man tied up to the tree struggled as the wizard who had betrayed James Potter brought the knife to the boy's flesh and cut into his arm. Pettigrew's expression was a mixture of sadism and insanity as he drained the blood from the child of his best friend. Harry, for his part, whimpered and cried out as he was cut and was forced to watch as the rest of the resurrection ritual was performed. The boy cringed and closed his eyes when Pettigrew sliced off his own hand to complete the formula.

And then Lord Voldemort rose up out of the cauldron, the infant sacrificed for his return no more, and the fully adult dark wizard walked the world in the flesh once again. It was a nightmare come true.

"Robe me," the dark wizard demanded, and Pettigrew complied, placing the dark robe over the pale body of his master and handing Tom Riddle's old wand back to him.

"He's back!" the boy trapped by the bones sobbed. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back!"

With a crow of triumph, Voldemort looked to the sky and fired a bolt of dark magic into the air, creating the deathly skull mark over the graveyard where he had been reborn. "Yes, Harry Potter, I am back, and just as powerful as ever! Wormtail, give me your arm…"

Instead of healing his follower's pained arm, as his willing servant first supposed, the dark wizard instead used Pettigrew's Dark Mark on his other arm to summon his followers back to him, painfully digging his wand into the pitiful man's flesh. After several minutes, there were several pops of apparition as one by one, the loyal Death Eaters returned to their master's service. Only then did Voldemort give Wormtail a magical silver hand to replace the one he had sacrificed. Each of the Death Eaters wore the black robes and magical mask of their dark order. Slowly, they formed a circle around the resurrected Dark Lord, whose pale, serpentine face and red eyes compelled their subservience.

Voldemort named his Inner Circle in turn, taking their masks from their faces and then harshly chided them for not being active in bringing about his return. Only Barty Crouch Jr. was spared Voldemort's displeasure. His anger caused his followers to fall to their knees, fearing what the Dark Lord would do them for their perceived failures. It was then that Tom Marvolo Riddle changed tact, instead of punishing them, he waved his arms as if erasing the past.

"But all will be forgiven. For I am a gracious lord. And today you will all bear witness to the world of my return, and of my ultimate strength." Voldemort turned away from his followers to address the captive Harry Potter, drawing the attention of his audience to the cowering boy. "I had wanted to wait until the Tri-Wizard Tournament's conclusion to whisk you away, right under Dumbledore's very nose, but since you were too cowardly to compete, I have been forced to move up my timetable." Turning once more to his Death Eaters, Voldemort raised his hands in a grand, triumphant gesture. "Nevertheless, I have bound my enemy, and will crush him before you!"

This announcement was met with cheers from the assembled Death Eaters.

Harry Potter wailed. "W-wait, please…" the boy struggled futilely against his bonds, tears running down his face.

"You see!" Voldemort jeered. "Is this the great Savior so many thought could equal me? This pathetic, sniveling boy? How could something so weak defeat me, the greatest wizard of all time?" Voldemort paused, letting his words sink in. "Oh, I readily admit that I did err, when I attempted to take his life as an infant. There was Old Magic at play, something I _should_ have seen, but neglected in my haste. And I couldn't touch the boy, and so, it was I who was destroyed. But…no matter," Voldemort said as he approached Harry and reached his hand out to squeeze the boy's face. "I can touch him now!"

"N-no, please, d-don't" the boy stammered out a weak protest.

The Death Eaters all laughed, some mocking the boy's fear, imitating his voice.

"Now, now, we must be fair. Harry Potter is bound and wandless. It is understandable that he, a mere boy would be unmanned, as it were, in my presence and especially in such hopeless circumstances. So, let me make this fair. Crouch. Release Potter and give him back his wand." Barty Crouch Junior bowed, then walked over to where Harry was, made a gesture with his hands, and the bone prison released its captive.

"It will all be over soon," Barty said with a leer and stepped a few paces away from the boy.

"Now then you, my most loyal servant, come to join me at my side in a place of honor!" Voldemort said, as Harry crawled pitifully on the ground away from the Dark Lord, not even making an attempt to retrieve the wand that had been thrown a few feet in front of him.

"Well, I think I'm going to have to say 'no' to that one," Barty Crouch Jr. answered. "I have to say, the idea of joining your little group is more than I can actually stomach."

Shocked silence reigned over the cemetery.

Everything went still for a moment. "What did you say?" Voldemort asked, unable to believe his ears.

"I said, that you're a bleeding maggot, and I'd rather cut off my other leg than get your filthy mark tattooed on my arm. Oh, and by the way, that ain't Harry Potter who was crawling away from you a minute ago." Barty tossed a small flask towards the cringing boy on the ground. "Drink up ya dog, your job is secure for another decade at least, I'd wager."

The boy with the lightning scar on his forehead gratefully grabbed the potion and quaffed it down in a gulp. Seconds later, the form of the boy was replaced with that of a man. An old man, familiar to everyone in the graveyard.

Gasps and hisses rang out from the assembled Death Eaters.

Argus Filch gagged. "Albus never said anything about—" before he could finish, the portkey on the bottle he was holding was triggered, and the school caretaker was whisked away.

"That's what the Confundus charm we put on you was for, so you couldn't blab, you cantakerous fool," Barty muttered to himself, before pulling out a bottle of Unpolyjuice Potion for himself. Seconds later, the form of Barty Crouch Jr. was replaced once again with Alastor Moody's original form. "Any trick a dark wizard can pull, I can do twice as well, you dunderheads! Constant Vigilance!"

And with that code phrase, an eruption of white light appeared behind Alastor Moody. Behind him stood the fully assembled Order of the Phoenix, Albus Dumbledore himself apparating in right beside the man.

"No! No! Where is Potter?!" Voldemort screamed out.

"Right here!" Harry responded, stepping out from behind Moody.

"You alright, there Harry?" Albus asked. "Your first time with side-along Apparition can be disorienting."

"I'm fine, sir." He said, his wand already trained on his foes, who had also all drawn their wands. Turning his head slightly to the side, Harry gave an appreciative nod to Alastor. "That was bloody brilliant, Professor! But I kind of feel sorry for Filch."

"Nah, don't worry about it. That man deserved at least that much for the hell he puts students through each year. At least he was good for something. Now let's see if you can put to good use all that I've been teaching you since I was rescued."

"So, Tom," Dumbledore said, stepping forward with boldness. "You have returned, as expected. You should have stayed Vanquished."

"YOU! This is all your fault!" Voldemort screamed at Dumbledore.

"Oh, hardly so. I must admit, much of this charade was my idea, but originally I had planned for Miss Tonks to be the one to impersonate the Boy-Who-Lived." Albus inclined his head at Nymphadora Tonks who curtsied towards the evil Death Eaters. "It was Harry's rather brilliant idea to give you the blood of a squib instead."

"You're welcome," Harry said with a grin.

With a shrill squeal of frustration, Voldemort unleashed a destructive curse towards his enemies, only for the attack to be repelled by a golden dome erected by Dumbledore. And then the battle began in earnest, both sides launching spells at each other.

Dumbledore stood confidently against Voldemort, trading spell for spell, countering everything the Dark Lord threw at him. "You cannot stand against me, Headmaster, even newly reborn I have become more than a match for you. While I have gained in power, you are growing old, and feeble."

"I may be growing old, Tom, but you still have much to learn before you have any chance to best me. Between myself and Harry Potter, you are outmatched. You put up a decent fight, but you cannot hope to last in strength," Dumbledore paused briefly, a sly smile playing about his lips as he brandished his wand, "against an elder and a child of prophesy."

At those words, Voldemort visibly snarled. He redoubled his efforts, bringing forth a flaming serpent, only for the attack to be countered by a river of water in the shape of a dragon.

On the rest of the battlefield, the Order of the Phoenix fought valiantly, holding nearly even with Inner Circle of the Death Eaters. It was Lucius Malfoy who changed the course of the battle. The white-blond haired patriarch hissed an order that redirected the Death Eater attack. "Take out the boy! Ignore the others!"

Nott, Goyle, and Crabbe formed up as an offensive unit and hurled vicious curses towards Harry in tandem. The Order Members, who had been careful to spread their shielding duties around evenly, were unprepared for the shift in attack. It would prove to be the pivotal moment of the battle.

It was in that moment that Harry showed he didn't need the Order to protect him. "_Protego Maximus!_" Harry shouted as he stepped forward, leaving the protection of his allies' group shield, marching head-on for the spear-head of wizards targeting him. The golden shield that sprung up around him deflected their combined attacks, surprising nearly everyone present. And then Harry counter-attacked with triple combination of spells one after another. "_BOMBARDA! CONFRINGO!_" The first two spells smashed aside their defenses. "_REDUCTO!_" On the third spell, Harry brought his hand and wand forward together in a motion as if sweeping aside all before him. The spell blasted all four of his opponents completely out of the field of battle, the force of the spell ripping up the area of the graveyard, sending gravestones, dirt, and even dead bodies flying backwards away from him.

All the fighting other than Voldemort and Dumbledore came to standstill as the combatants took stock of what had just happened. A young boy had just overpowered four adult wizards and devastated the battleground.

"Holy Merlin!" Tonks spoke for everyone.

Seeing his force suddenly weakened, Voldemort fled, disappearing with a crack of apparition. The remaining Death Eaters bugged out as well.

Dumbledore was by Harry's side in an instant, clapping him on the back before putting his arm around Harry and standing beside him. "Well done, Harry! Well done!" Then the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Headmaster of Hogwarts turned to the rest of the Order as the group looked at the pair of powerful wizards standing side bye side. "Well done everyone! We have won this first battle."

Then to Harry alone he added, "Now let's go back, and win this war."

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ Yes, this story is now officially off hiatus. There is no specific schedule, but it shouldn't be too long before the next chapter is out. Please read and review!


	18. Chapter 17: Library Interlude

**Chapter 17: Library Interlude  
><strong>

Hermione Granger looked at Harry. He was sitting just a few tables away in the library studying intently from several texts. Ever since the return of Voldemort, Hermione forced herself to think the name instead of one of the several euphemisms used for him, Harry had been hitting the books even more seriously than ever before. It was as if Harry suddenly got it, why studying was so deathly important. Finally.

Which made her feel guilty about what she had just done.

Hermione bit her lip as she perused the parchment in front of her. She knew she should not have been doing this. It was wrong to have broken into Professor Flitwick's office and wrong to have taken another student's work. Even worse, she absolutely knew that it was very, very wrong to be jealous of another student's success, especially when that successful student was her best friend.

It wasn't in Hermione's nature to do things she knew were against the rules, but this had been nagging her for more than an entire school year now, and well, if she had started to pick up some of Harry Potter's rule breaking habits, he only had himself to blame.

The brown haired witch's eyes scanned the words on the parchment in front of her, pouring over the text rapidly. Occasionally, she would give little slight approving nods, but a third of the way down, the nods abruptly ceased and a slight frown settled onto her face, marring the youthful beauty that was beginning to emerge. As she continued to read, the dissatisfied frown only deepened, and she began to look up to the mark at the top of the paper.

Outstanding? 122 points, five whole points above her own score?

Hermione rose to her feet, feeling increasingly agitated by this. Harry had certainly improved as a student since second year, that was certainly true, and Harry's essay for his Charms assignment showed he had really done a lot of studying for the assignment, and perhaps if Professor Flitwick was giving out points for effort and showing knowledge of the subject matter then perhaps an 'O' grade _could_ be justified…but, five points above what she had written? No, just…no.

Harry was _wrong_.

The problem was that even though Harry clearly had a fundamental misunderstanding about _Wildsmith's Third Alternative Principle of Inanimate Motivation_, his Charms practical had been completely perfect. That was what was frustrating to her. It was not that Harry was starting to get grades as good as hers, at least _not entirely_ that, it was that he was always outperforming her even when she knew that she knew the material better.

It was positively infuriating. The worst thing was that even professors were being fooled by Harry's improvement. The last time she pointed out that Harry was doing something wrong, Professor Flitwick had just told her that Harry was naturally using more advanced principles…that it was natural genius.

Utter bollocks, pardon her language, but while Harry was far from stupid, he was NOT a genius. He did not understand the complexities of magical theory. There were things you just could not do because they were theoretically impossible. Of course, the fact that he just went ahead and then did those aforementioned impossible things was the even more infuriating part.

Were it anyone else, Hermione would have been too mortified at having broken the rules to even think of confronting them about it. But this was Harry. He had broken more rules in the first year of his life—defeating an undefeatable Dark Lord as an infant! Honestly, that should have been enough of an indicator of what kind of regard the boy would have for authority and rules right there—than she had broken her entire life. And she knew he wouldn't turn her in or stay angry at her for more than a few days. He just didn't have that in him.

"Harry," she said in a half-whisper. She had walked over to her good friend where he sat in an isolated section of the library while those thoughts had gone through her head, "can I talk to you about something? First off, I hope you're not too angry at me, I did something I shouldn't have…"

Harry flashed her a winning smile. "Angry at you?" Harry replied, "I don't know what you've done yet, but I'm proud of you! Breaking the rules like a champion." A second later he added more seriously, "Really, Hermione, I don't know what it is yet, but I'm sure whatever you did was warranted. Don't worry, Hermione, you can tell me."

Hermione flushed. Yes, it was wrong to enjoy being praised for rule-breaking, but it was just hard not to enjoy the feeling of approbation from Harry Potter, even though she knew what he was really like, and that he was not at all how all those books portrayed him. Still, to have the bravest, yet still amazingly humble super-famous boy who was also her dearest and closest friend give her his approval just made Hermione feel warm and happy inside. So, don't judge, she told her inner critic.

A little tentatively, she pulled out his pilfered Charms assignment. "Harry, I think…I think either you are getting special treatment because you're the Boy-Who-Lived, or I'm being marked lower because I'm a Muggle-born. Since Flitwick hasn't shown any blood purist tendencies, I'm leaning towards the former."

It had been a while since Harry let her see his work before handing it in. Hermione had honestly expected him to show a little anger at her for going behind his back to see his essay, so she was surprised when, instead of anger, Harry's expression took on a briefly wary glint, with a hint of…resignation?

"It's not that I don't think you deserve high marks, Harry," she hurriedly added, "you're essay **was** really, good. You're really starting to understand things and put them together well, and I'm really very proud of you. But…you were wrong. I don't mind if you write a better paper than me," she was lying a little there, she knew, "but when you make a critical mistake like the one in this paper and the professor doesn't mark you down for it…"

Harry frowned. "Hermione, have you considered that maybe there was something in my explanation that _you_ misunderstood? I admit, you are smarter than me and probably always will be, but do you think I can't possibly understand some things that you don't? Even sometimes?"

"Of course I think you can understand some things I don't, Harry!" Hermione protested. She didn't want Harry to think she was arrogant! "It's not like you're Ron or anything! Just, this time, that's not it. See, here where you said the abjurative properties of the identity binding allow for true proxy imprinting? That conflicts with…" Hermione flipped through an advanced NEWT level textbook and pointed to the place in Harry's essay where he went astray, methodically pointing out the logical inconsistency with what was known about controlling simulacra. "So, you see, your interpretation cannot possibly right," she concluded.

Hermione watched her friend carefully, looking for the tell-tale signs of resentment that so often went hand-in-hand with telling someone they were wrong. Harry had a slight frown on his face, but not the resentful, angry frown most people got before blowing up at her for merely explaining what it was they were being stupid about. Hermione could see that Harry was working through what she had just explained, that he was _listening_ to her.

She was really so proud of how far Harry had come in his studies. It was a real shame he was getting special treatment because of being who he was, and all—in the end, that would only hold him back from true scholarship and achievement. The fact that he could actually follow her explanations now spoke volumes to how much progress he had made since he started taking his studies seriously.

Of course, it was rather odd that his increase in power and strength led to him studying more instead of the other way around, but then, he was Harry Potter.

"I see what you mean, Hermione," Harry said at last with a sigh. "You did write a better paper, and I can see where I went wrong on the theory. But, there's still a reason I can successfully cast the _imperator_ charm on a non-Quarian simulacrum. It's…"

Hermione watched as the Boy-Who-Lived struggled to find the words to explain himself. He was trying, really, but he wasn't quite there yet. Hermione almost smiled fondly, but stopped herself before you looked condescending. She was getting better at that.

"Well, I can't really explain it, but I think if I showed you, you could figure it out. Then maybe, you could explain it to me so I'll get it right next time?" Harry asked.

She readily agreed. She didn't know exactly what the trick was, maybe something to do with tertiary bindings, but she could at least watch Harry's form. It felt good that Harry still turned to her for help in some things.

Harry drew his wand and pointed it towards her. "Okay, now watch the tip of the wand closely."

Hermione nodded, her eyes narrowing to try and see it more clearly.

"_Obliviate_."

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><p>.<p>

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><p>"Well, well, well. If it isn't Saint Potter," a too familiar, utterly unwelcome voice cut in from behind a bookshelf just as Harry sheathed his wand and Hermione slumped down in her chair. "Or, maybe not so saintly," Draco Malfoy said with a smirk. "Finally saw the light and decided to ditch the Mudblood? I honestly didn't think you had that in you, Potter."<p>

Harry turned around, giving Draco a hard glare. It had been a while since the spoiled brat of a boy had dared to raise his head high enough to cause any trouble. Now, it seemed, the boy thought he had an opportunity to be a nuisance once more.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked sharply.

"No need to get too upset, Potter. I'm willing to keep what I just saw to myself. All I want from you in return is—"

"Stuff it, Malfoy," Harry said with mild annoyance. "You won't get anything from me. Now, why don't you run along back to Madame Pomfrey to make sure you don't have another house elf Malfoy baby."

Draco's face went from pale to white with rage. "THAT NEVER HAPPENED!" he yelled. Only the fact that Madame Pince was in the Restricted Section berating a student who had just opened a loudly shrieking book allowed his outburst to go unnoticed.

"When my father hears about this, Potter, you'll end up in Azkaban. I'm going to—" Draco cut off his tirade with a tiny shriek of fear as he saw Harry reach into his robe and begin pulling something out. Draco fumbled for his wand, but was far too slow.

Harry snorted. Instead of a wand, Harry produced an engraved ivory card.

"You won't tell anyone about this, Draco," Harry said softly, "because if you do, then you'll be the one in trouble."

Draco fumed, his wand now out and pointed at a seemingly unconcerned Harry Potter. "You can't really believe you can just memory charm someone and get away with it, do you Potter? Not even you can think your fame would protect you."

"Not my fame, Draco," Harry said, extending the card. "This." Harry noticed how Draco still held his wand towards him. "Oh, give off, Malfoy. If I had wanted to hex you, I'd have already done so by now."

Draco kept his wand trained on Harry, but took the card. It wasn't like the fact that Harry Potter had destroyed a dementor and beaten a half dozen senior Death Eaters hadn't been in the Daily Prophet in practically every edition. He wasn't about to try his luck, but he wasn't going to give up his advantage, either. Draco wasn't _that_ stupid.

"What is this rubbish?" Draco spat when he looked at the card. "Harry James Potter, Level 1 Obliviator's License?"

"That's right, Draco. And it's an offense to intentionally reveal, either directly or indirectly, the act of a duly authorized obliviation to the subject of such obliviation without due cause," Harry quoted. "So, even if your father still had any real influence after his second attempt to pretend he was _imperiused_, the only one who would get hurt by this would be you."

Draco scowled for a second, then he snorted. "Nice try, Potter. You almost had me there. Even if that license is real, which is highly doubtful, there's no way that your way of ending the little dispute with Granger would be authorized by the Ministry. I'm telling everyone, and then we'll see what everyone thinks of the 'great Harry Potter.'"

Harry shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly. "I warned you. Do that and you'll be the one getting a fine. But, I'm not worried. I know you won't even tell a single person, and I'll tell you why."

"Oh, why is that?" Draco asked with a confident sneer.

"Look at the fine print on the back of the card," Harry answered.

Draco did.

There was a flash of white light from the card and Draco's eyes went unfocused.

A few seconds later, Draco shook his head and looked around the empty section of the library he was standing in and wondered what in Merlin's name he was doing standing in the library, and when had it gotten to be this late in the afternoon!

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><p>.<p>

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><p>Ron Weasley was a bit worried about his best mate. Ever since the return of You-Know-Who, Harry hadn't been himself. He was studying.<p>

Well, it wasn't like Harry Potter didn't study before. To be honest, the past year or so Harry had been doing a lot more reading. But this...this was Hermione-level obsession with the library. It was a weekend, there were no end of term tests because of the Tri-Wizard tournament earlier in the year, and he and his other bookwork friend were the only ones in the library.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said casually as he approached his friend. "Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?"

"Sorry Ron," Harry said as he cross-checked three books at once, "kind of busy with this now. Maybe later?"

Ron frowned. "Look, Harry, all this studying is sort of getting out of hand. It's like...you don't have fun anymore! I mean, it's not like you're Hermione, but you gotta take a break from the library."

Harry sighed. "I know, Ron, but..."

Just then, Hermione herself sidled up to the table, a roll of parchment in her hands.

"I looked your essay over liked you asked, Harry," the bushy brown haired girl said, a happy smile on her face. "It's really quite good. I can tell you've done a lot of research into this. I think you'll get an 'O' on the assignment."

"See," Ron said, "even Hermione thinks you're doing good enough."

"That's 'well' enough, Ron," Hermione said, getting that Know-It-All look on her face that he really couldn't stand, "and you might want to take a page from Harry's book and do some studying yourself. Harry here has written a very well-reasoned explanation of modifications to summoning charms."

"But?" Harry asked, suddenly.

Ron was confused. Hadn't Hermione just said she thought it would get an 'O'? "But, what?"

"Hermione found something wrong in my essay," Harry said. "What did I get wrong?" he asked.

"Well," Hermione began hesitantly, "you were basically right about the arithmantic influence of time of birth on the maximal scope, but you missed the reference to Chomisky's Treatise."

Harry nodded. "Right, I should have checked there before writing that part. Thanks Hermione."

And then Harry casually pulled out his wand and obliviated Hermione as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. He started making some notes on the parchment in front of him while Hermione sat staring glossy-eyed into nothing.

"Did—did you just memory charm Hermione?" Ron asked with a slight stammer.

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. I've gotten pretty good at it now. Don't worry, she'll be fine. Dumbledore taught me before I started using it."

Ron just stood their, gaping like a fish. "But...but..."

Now Harry turned towards him a very serious look on his face. "Look, Ron, it's for her own good. I know something, and it's really best that Hermione not ever figure out what that is. So, she has to believe I'm getting stronger because I'm studying more. It's really important that Hermione believe in me."

"Uh, okay." Ron paused for a second. "You're not going to _obliviate_ me, are you? I believe in you, you know."

"I know you do, Ron," Harry said with a weak smile. "And, I don't think I'll have to do that with you." After a minute, Harry's face fell. "You know, Ron, I tried telling Hermione the truth. I told her everything, things I'm not ever going to tell you. And do you know what happened?"

"What?" Ron asked.

"She went mental. Not like she normally is, regular girl-mental, but blow-up-a-library-with-a-reductor-curse nuts. And then, after that, she had a total breakdown. She tried to learn a spell, but just couldn't. It was a mercy to take the memory from her."

Something that would make Hermione blow up part of a library. That was hard for Ron to wrap his mind around. "Okay, Harry, I've got your back, no matter what. Whatever you need, mate, I'm here for you."

Now Harry's smile looked relieved, and genuine. "And you don't mind if I don't tell you the reason why I need you to do something?"

Ron shrugged. "Not like I'd probably even understand it if you did. You've gotten almost as bad as Hermione when you talk about magic now, Harry, did you know that?"

Harry grinned. "Well, then, welcome to the Rotfang Conspiracy," he said. "Now, let's go play a game of Exploding Snap until Hermione wakes up!"

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I lied about it not being very long between. Sorry.


End file.
